


raining over lovers

by joongz



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Slice of Life, dancer!yunho & music producer!hongjoong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joongz/pseuds/joongz
Summary: Yunho thinks he's over Hongjoong, then he bumps into him four years later.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong, subtle minsang
Comments: 7
Kudos: 122





	1. It'd be so sweet if things just stayed the same

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
A small something I wrote while working on my current main fic - [In The Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068963/chapters/50121986).  
I hope you enjoy it! 💛💛💛
> 
> Small playlist to listen to while reading this:  
_Lights Up_ \- Harry Styles  
_She's In The Rain_ \- The Rose  
_Polyhymnia_ \- Keaton Henson  
_Someone's Someone_ \- Monsta X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’ll stay in Yunho’s memories like this, though, with the now red hair and the piercings, and those dazzling brown eyes. He’ll always stay in his memories, the ones that remain lost and roam freely.

The start of summer feels like the ending of those cliché romantic comedies. 

In each of his classes there is a, more or less, acceptable grade (which means he can move on to his third year), the semester is officially over, and the girl of his dreams agreed to go with him to the party—that pretty much all students in their faculty (hell, probably _all campus_) have been talking about. She gave him a sweet smile, her pink lips curling up prettily and her intense eyes sparkling in the sun.

With that memory, and the feeling that summer will be great, he pedals down a narrow side street, the wind that hits his face smells of diverse spices and holds the promise that the night will be warm and humid. 

In every sense, Jeong Yunho feels amazing.

Maybe (partly) it has to do with the pleasant buzz he got after going through several choreographies in the practice room near campus, which he hasn’t been able to do for weeks (with finals and essays to be finished and delivered). Or perhaps, it’s simply the excitement of knowing that some fantastic and _ desperately _ needed summer days are ahead, and the prospect of lazing around and visiting the community pool just sounds absolutely heavenly to Yunho. If the night goes well and he musters up some courage, he could probably have a girlfriend as well.

_ Everything is falling into place_, he believes.

Although the party has already begun and the first students are on their way of getting properly smashed, as Choi Jongho’s few voice messages indicated (where he was complaining to Yunho that he doesn’t really know anyone and that he will never, _ ever _ volunteer to help prepare a party again), Yunho is not on his way to the party location, not yet anyway. He’s going over to Song Ming’s tiny—_really tiny_—flat, who lives alone (the bastard) and needs help getting ready. 

Or, rather, Yunho and Mingi decided to get ready for the party together. It’s their first time assisting one of the more popular parties, usually the two of them would get together in Mingi’s flat or meet up at one of their selective clubs whenever they decided to go partying. Jongho joined them occasionally, he isn’t a big one for parties, especially, as he puts it, if it only involves his loser hyungs, aka, Yunho and Mingi.

Thankfully, Mingi met Choi San, a rather popular student, and here they are, getting invited to one of the coolest and biggest parties, hosted by San himself and two of his friends. The pressure of the party pushed Mingi and Yunho to get ready and look smashing and dapper, more than they would try to attempt for their usual kind of parties. 

Yunho parks his bike by the bike rack near where Mingi’s flat is situated: a conglomeration of small and cheap rooms for students near their university campus. It’s called The Block and quite frankly it scares Yunho: he’s heard all kinds of stories from his friend. If it weren’t for Mingi, Yunho would probably avoid the building at all costs.

Their university is known for its diverse and big science department, both Yunho and Mingi in the science faculty. Mingi is a year three IT student, Yunho a year three Biochem student with an affinity for dance. So of course, all the weird computer science and hacker students live in The Block, staying up late and getting up to no good. Yunho has encountered some of the weirder ones and he tries to never wander around The Block’s hallways past 2am, because some things _ can’t _ be unseen—or be unheard.

Jongho is one of the few students that studies in the art faculty, year two Music Theory. He gets to live at the campus’s dorms, thanks to his scholarship. But even he has heard of The Block.

Yunho walks to the left entrance of the building where Mingi has his room in, he rings the bell next to the nametag _ Song_, and waits for his friend to buzz him in. He leans against the doorframe, boredly staring at the darkening street, where different small shops still are opened. The infamously cheap ramen place, the small bar with a diverse beer selection, the underground rapper club that sells illegal alcohol, the grocery shop that has opened 24/7, the pet shop that weirdly gets frequented a lot… It’s a strange street, the presence of The Block only adding onto it.

After five minutes of complete silence, Yunho is about to text Mingi to let him in, when the main door opens and someone steps out. It’s a young man, smaller than Yunho, with dyed red hair. He’s dressed in black skinny jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt with a washed out band logo printed on top. Yunho seizes the opportunity to enter the building, but he stops dead in his tracks as he catches a whiff of the perfume or shower gel the guy uses, it’s the distinctive smell of marzipan mixed with something else that must be the personal odor of him.

It’s familiar to Yunho, familiar in a way that makes his heart stutter in his chest, and he whips his head around too quickly, so he can stare at the figure of the young man disappearing into the night.

_ It can’t be_, Yunho thinks as he stands still, hand on the door handle, half inside The Block, half outside. Part of Yunho wants to sprint after the redhead, make sure it really is _ him_, but Yunho promised himself he would forget about him, that he would never ever dwell into that side of his past again. 

His broken dreams and promises are meant to stay where he lost them.

Yunho shakes his head and walks into the building, letting the door fall shut behind himself. Inside, he flicks the switch on and the hallway lights up with ugly bright white light, then he starts ascending the staircase to the third floor where Mingi has his room. He pounds on his friend’s door until, finally, Mingi comes up, looking annoyed and tired, his freshly dyed hair sticking up in several directions and the lines of his pillow etched into his skin. 

He looks funny like that.

“Sorry,” Mingi mumbles, passing a hand through his gray hair. “I completely forgot. I was doing this raid together with some other guys and… Anyway, I went to sleep like three hours ago.”

“_Yikes_,” Yunho says, kicking off his sneakers as he walks into his friend’s home. “Let me make you a coffee while you shower.”

“Thank you.” Mingi heads into the bathroom.

The flat isn’t big: the small kitchenette and bedroom are one and the same, with an extra room where the bathroom is. There is no washing machine, but no necessity for it either as a block away there is the washing center most of The Block’s residents frequent. The cool thing about Mingi’s tiny flat is the balcony next to his bed, it’s not big, barely one person fits there—even less if they’re the size of Mingi or Yunho—but it’s nice and makes the place seem bigger. Mingi uses it to put his ever growing collection of cacti. 

(When San saw them he decided to give them names, specifically the names of the members of his favorite group, that Yunho has forgotten the name of, but he knows they have a song called _ Cactus_.)

Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting on Mingi’s bed, each holding a cup of instant coffee that tastes like ass, and discussing whatever comes to their mind.

“I’m telling you, Jake and Amy are going to get together, longterm, ” Yunho is telling him, both of them recently started watching the same American show.

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Not this shit again. Amy _ hates _him.”

“So, what? Leia hated Han Solo, too, and look where that got them. Plus, Jake isn’t even as bad as Han Solo…”

“_Ugh_, but fair point.” 

Yunho finishes the coffee quickly, trying not to get too much of the taste. “Hey, so, you know quite a lot of The Block’s residents, right?” he asks his friend, to which Mingi nods. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kim Hongjoong? A year older than us?”

Mingi frowns, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. Tell me what he looks like.”

“He is, uh, _ tiny_. I am pretty sure that right now he has red hair, like bright red…”

“Wait, I think I know him! He takes Music Production and rarely hangs out with The Block people. Or any people, really. His name might be Hongjoong, yes… A bit of a hermit, if you ask me,” Mingi tells him, scratching his chin as he tries to remember. “Why do you ask?”

“Ah…” Yunho looks away, down at his hands. “We went to the same high school. I haven’t seen him in, I don’t know, four years, or so… I think I bumped into him earlier and got curious, that’s all.”

“Huh, do you want me to try and get his phone number?” Mingi offers.

Yunho shakes his head vehemently. “No!” he says, a bit too loudly.

“Are you two not on good terms or…?”

“Something like that,” Yunho admits. “Let’s not talk about it, it doesn’t matter. Jongho is going to kill us if we don’t show up soon. He says San is making him babysit Wooyoung and you know how those two can get…”

“All right,” Mingi answers, finishing his cup of coffee as well. As he gets up, he shoots Yunho a look, face serious but soft. “Yunho, you know you can trust me, right? If you want to ever talk about, you know, _ stuff_, I’ll listen.”

Yunho smiles, skin prickling. “Thank you.”

He wonders how he would start to tell people about his past; would he start with the moment he discovered he has an affinity for dance? Would he start with the moment he met Hongjoong at age fifteen, a time before he had even started contemplating the bigger questions in life? Would he start with when he was sixteen and kissed someone for the first time? Or when he was seventeen and nearly got kicked out of home? 

In his head it all just feels like too much and now almost like someone else’s life.

Yunho wonders how Mingi would react if he was to tell him he liked both women _ and _ men, that his first kiss was with a boy, that he has a very strained and forced relationship with his parents… When Yunho started university, nearly three years ago, it was an opportunity he took gratefully to become someone else, to get rid of his past.

But as it seems, his past is not letting go of him.

When Mingi has styled his hair and dressed up in some nice fitting jeans and a dress shirt, and Yunho has changed out of his t-shirt (as Mingi deems it too bland and boring) and instead is wearing a nice button up that belongs to Mingi, his black hair curled and fluffier than it was when he got there, the two of them leave The Block.

The party isn’t too far away so instead of biking there, they walk. The night is loud and alive, Yunho peaks around the street, stretching his neck as Mingi walks to a small alley that takes them through a quick shortcut.

“What are you looking for?” Mingi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing,” Yunho mumbles, shaking his head.

He elbows Mingi and then sprints through the alley, laughing as Mingi protests and tries to catch up. The exit of the alley is right by their university campus, the house where the party is hosted is at the opposite side of the street so they hurriedly cross it, not bothering to look left or right as the area is pretty much dead around this time and the only light or noise source is the party. The house raises in the distance, the thumping of the bass not as loud as one would have expected. The party is held inside, where there’s a pool even.

San and his two friends put together the money to rent out the place, getting some others to take care of the drinks and snacks. It’s pretty elaborate for a party, but then again it’s been a tradition, and now San and his friends are the ones to carry out the tradition until they graduate. They’re part of a more elite group of students, therefore able to afford it and get the allowance to rent out the place. Jongho is a recruit but it seems he is not really on board. Yunho knows he’s doing it more because everyone told him it was the right decision, rather than because he actually wanted to himself.

Mingi and Yunho exchange a look before they cross the small and abandoned garden in front of the house, then they ring the doorbell of the house, and seconds later it is opened by none other that Jeong Wooyoung, one of San’s closer friends. 

“Ah, welcome!” he greets them, smiling brightly, and steps aside to let them inside. “Jongho is about to start throwing people into the pool, so I’m really _ fucking _ glad you’re here actually. Please control him,” he says, grimacing.

Yunho rolls his eyes.

“What did you do to him?” Mingi asks, but he’s laughing.

“I did _ nothing_,” Wooyoung assures them, looking offended. “I’m pretty sure it’s Seonghwa hyung who’s at fault this time.”

“This time…” Yunho repeats quietly. He smiles when Wooyoung pouts. “Where are the drinks?” he asks as they walk through the welcoming hall.

“Ah, yes! Follow me!” 

Wooyoung guides them through the living room, past the dancing area where everyone is pressed together in darkness with a disco ball circulating over their heads and casting colors on their faces; then past the room where the swimming pool is installed in, quiet and barely lit, most of the lights are inside the pool rather than outside, and it casts pretty and wavy shadows on the white walls—the sound of splashing and laughter echoes through the room—and finally they reach the kitchen, a group of five people is gathered in there, they are talking loudly and _definitely not_ soberly to one another.

San is one of the people, then there’s his friend Park Seonghwa. The other three are unfamiliar to Yunho.

“Look who got here,” Wooyoung announces once they enter the kitchen.

“Yunho! Mingi!” San exclaims and comes to hug them clumsily. “Finally you’re here, it's been forever,” he says as if they hadn’t seen one another in a really long time.

“We had breakfast together,” Yunho points out, but embraces his friend tightly. “The party looks really nice!” he tells the three hosts.

“Thank you, Yunho!” Seonghwa smiles at him.

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

Mingi clears his throat, looking at the selection of alcohol on the kitchen counter. “So, what do you guys got there?”

Wooyoung sloppily prepares them two drinks.

Mingi and Yunho join the kitchen group, talking and laughing, and having a good time. At some point, San and Wooyoung disappear with the premise that they’ll go to dance, but Yunho wonders if there might be more going on in between them. He’s too scared to ask, scared that this question will be received with disgust. Scared that the answer is yes and that they’ll ask him if he is… 

“Wait, has anyone checked on Jongho?” asks Kang Yeosang, one of the five people in the kitchen, who was introduced as Wooyoung’s friend from high school and is a professional skater, nationally known. 

“Uh…” Yunho and Mingi exchange a look. “I’ll go look for him,” Yunho finally offers. Mingi grins triumphantly. “He was last seen at the swimming pool, correct?”

“You’re saying it as if he is some sort of creature wandering around,” Seonghwa says, laughing. “And yes, swimming pool room.”

Yunho nods his head and grabs a can of beer before he heads out of the kitchen.

He’s been leaning against the counter since his arrival and drinking away, but it’s only now that he is on the move that he realizes just _ how _ tipsy he truly is. His vision is slightly blurry and the lights in the hallway seem too blinding, which is why once he enters the swimming pool room he is taken aback by the stark contrast, the darkness almost making him stumble and fall flat. He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the difference, and he starts to see two dark forms by the deep end of the pool, most likely making out, and another two forms sitting a few feet from Yunho. There’s a group of people sitting with their feet dangling in the water by the middle area of the pool.

“Jongho!” Yunho calls out hesitantly. “Choi Jongho!” he repeats, walking into the room and squinting at the dark blobs. “Choi Jongho-ssi, are you in here?”

“Choi Jongho, present!” comes an answer seconds later, giggling, and Yunho sees one of the blobs nearest to him raise its hand. “Jeong Yunho-ssi?”

“That is me,” Yunho says as he approaches his friend. He sits down next to him. “I see you have not gone feral and pushed people into the pool…”

“Maybe I have and you’ve missed it,” Jongho says, smirking. “How long have you been here, hyung?”

“I’m not sure,” Yunho says with a shrug. He opens the can in his hand with his index finger and takes a swing. He glances over at the person Jongho is hanging out with, in the darkness Yunho can make out the vague shape of eyes, nose, and mouth. He blinks, trying to adjust his vision, but the light from behind the person blinds him too much to make out their face. “Hello,” he greets them.

“_Shit_,” the person mumbles. “Uh, hi,” he says back.

“Ah, right, hyung this is—” Jongho starts to say.

“I have to leave!” the stranger interrupts Jongho, standing up abruptly, but he seems to be slightly drunk as well as he sways dangerously and falls forward, very ungracefully falling on top of Jongho and Yunho. “Oof!”

“Ugh, get off me, hyung,” Jongho protests, pushing at his friend.

It’s a mistake because Jongho is strong and he doesn’t just push his friend off, he straight up knocks him into Yunho, who falls back into the pool, almost taking the friend with him. The coldness of the water is pleasant and it takes away some of the dizziness and blur that Yunho has been experiencing. Once he emerges, he is about to yell at Jongho, his phone is most likely going to be broken now, and his beer can is spilled. But the words get stuck in Yunho’s throat.

The first thing he sees after his head comes out of the water are a pair of brown, dazzling and beautiful eyes, painfully familiar, holding a deer caught in headlights expression. Thick eyebrows, painted over in a reddish tone, are half hidden behind the brightly dyed red hair; Yunho recognizes the slender and pointy nose; and finally, pink lips parted in surprise, a row of straight and pearly white teeth peeking out. 

Yunho just stares, too shocked to say anything, but he can feel his ears grow warm at a very quick pace.

Kim Hongjoong retreats, scrambling up, and he sways again, nearly falling into the swimming pool, but he manages and walks away quickly.

“Hyung! Wait!” Jongho calls out surprised but he doesn’t follow him, instead he helps Yunho out of the pool. “I am so sorry,” he apologizes, eyes wide with worry. “I didn’t mean to push you into the pool.”

“It’s fine,” Yunho says, staring at the door where Hongjoong disappeared through.

“And I’m sorry for Hongjoong hyung, he’s usually super sociable…” he continues, frowning.

“Ah, um…” Yunho’s mouth runs dry. 

_ So, it really was Hongjoong_, he thinks to himself, befuddled.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Jongho says, getting up. “We’ve got towels there. Maybe some spare clothes.”

“I need a bowl of rice to dry my phone,” Yunho tells up, following his friend out of the swimming pool room.

“Kitchen first then.”

It’s hours later, after Yunho’s dried off and his clothes are in the dryer because, as it turns out, there aren’t any spare clothes in the house that would fit him. He feels really stupid sitting there, in the washing room of the house, waiting for his clothes and phone to dry. At least Jongho has the grace to stay with him, even brought some snacks and drinks.

At some point, Mingi comes as well, bringing a very drunk Wooyoung and a very giggly San with him. They end up having their own small party in that room and Yunho really appreciates them for this, it makes him smile gratefully as he stares at the lot of them.

“Hey, hey, hey,” says Wooyoung, grabbing San’s shoulder to steady himself as he’s about to perform some monologue, “Guys, there is something really important I need to get off my chest.”

“Oh, boy,” mumbles Jongho, scrunching up his nose.

Mingi _ whoops _ loudly and claps his hands in encouragement.

“San and I,” Wooyoung says, eyes twinkling as he looks down at San, who stares up at him with a look full of love. Yunho swallows, in his drunken mind he is wary. “Have been friends… The _ bestest _of friends for years and I think it’s time we confess that we—” he hiccups and grimaces, quickly placing a hand in front of his mouth. 

“What Wooyoung is trying to say is that we are, uh, kinda, you know, together-_ish_,” San finishes for his friend (boyfriend?) and smiles hesitantly at the small group gathered, expression hopeful.

“Oh,” says Mingi, not clapping anymore, and looks at the two of them.

Yunho swallows, wants to say _ I’m proud of you _ or _ I love you guys_, or even _ congratulations_, but all words are stuck in his throat as he waits for Mingi or Jongho to say anything. This is crucial, their response could make or break a lot for Yunho.

“I’m surprised,” Jongho says, staring at them still with a rather blank expression, “But I guess it makes sense. I’ve been a part of the club for the better half of this year and I did notice you two were, er, very close. To put it in a way…”

San nods his head, helping Wooyoung sit down, who was looking sicker with each second that passes.

“I’m happy for you guys,” says Mingi unexpectedly. He grins. “I never considered _ this_,” he moves his right hand in their direction, “a possibility, but now that I look at you two, you make a really cute couple.”

“We’re not, ah, together as of yet, but getting there,” San says, smiling shyly. He looks at Yunho then, waiting. His expression turns apprehensive, as though he expects Yunho to yell at him or tell him off.

“I-I,” Yunho stutters, shivering then. “I’m happy for you guys and I—” 

He wants to say it, it’s a good moment he supposes, maybe a bit egotistical as he would take away the spotlight from Wooyoung and San’s announcement, but maybe they would appreciate it.

The words get stuck in his throat.

“You what?” Jongho inquires, looking at him with his head cocked. His eyes are inquisitive and almost as if he knows Yunho has a big secret, ready to be spilled.

Yunho sighs heavily, more of an exhale.

He gulps, looking at San who doesn’t look afraid anymore and more curious than anything else; to Mingi who just smiles, his cat smile that he wears when he’s absolutely comfortable where he is, and it’s directed at Yunho in an encouraging way; then there’s Wooyoung who is about to fall asleep, curled up in San’s chest; and finally Jongho, next to him, his hand now patting Yunho’s naked knee.

They’re his friends. He’s known Jongho and Mingi for a long time, and San seems like an understanding and good person; Wooyoung as well. Rationally, he knows he could trust them, but Yunho has scars, deep in his heart, that he’s been carrying with him for the past four years.

He swallows again and readies himself. 

“Me too,” he says. It’s not really what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say this, but the people in the room understand. “I am…”

He can’t say it.

“It’s okay,” Jongho tells him, giving him a smile.

“Yes, it’s okay,” Mingi agrees.

“If you ever want to talk about it,” San starts, an empathetic look crossing his eyes. “You know, about the hardships or what you’ve been through, I’ll listen. I’ve… faced my own share of, well, discrimination because of this.”

“Thank you,” Yunho says, quietly, looking down at the tiles of the washing room.

He feels light and dizzy, he’s never really told anyone in four years.

“Wait, but I thought you’re into that girl from class,” Mingi speaks up, confusion written all over his face. 

And with that the moment breaks, but Yunho doesn’t really mind, he’s glad he’s not the center of attention anymore. He was about to drown.

He snorts.

“Bisexual people exist, hyung,” Jongho tells Mingi, exasperatedly, and kicks the taller boy.

“Hey!” Mingi protests.

San laughs, high pitched, his eyes crinkling, and when they meet Yunho’s they’re full of understanding. Yunho lets out a sigh of relief. That is until he looks up and there, by the entrance of the washing room, stands Hongjoong together with Seonghwa, staring at Yunho with a mix of different expressions on his face that Yunho doesn’t quite understand.

“So, this is where you all went to hide, huh?” Seonghwa says, reproachful tone, and enters the room, Hongjoong following him hesitantly.

“Ah, hyung,” Jongho addresses Hongjoong, “Why did you run away earlier?”

“Um…” Hongjoong falters in his steps, nearly tripping over Wooyoung’s leg. “I remembered I had to, er, phone someone,” he lies—or perhaps it’s the truth, what would Yunho know?—and glances quickly at Yunho before looking away again, but Jongho catches it and looks at Yunho questioningly.

Yunho shrugs as a response and very pointedly does not look at Hongjoong. The two newcomers sit down, Seonghwa next to Mingi, and Hongjoong in between Seonghwa and San, right in front of Yunho, who starts to feel very exposed without his clothes and way too vulnerable.

“Wait,” Mingi says, staring at Hongjoong. “You live in The Block, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

Mingi looks at Yunho, eyebrows raised.

Yunho shakes his head, sending a warning look at his best friend, and just in case says, “Jongho, when the _fuck_ are my clothes dry? I am freezing!”

“It’s summer, hyung,” Jongho says with an eyeroll.”

“I don’t care, I’m cold. Can’t you just check?”

“Fine, hold on.” Jongho stands up to turn off the dryer and check. “I mean they’re still kind of moist, but I think, if you must, you can wear them.”

“Excellent,” Yunho says and gets up to grab his clothes, then he navigates through the house to an empty bathroom so he could get out of the towel he had been using and change back into his clothes.

Yunho is about to reunite with the group when he notices a figure leaning casually against the wall opposite of the bathroom. The illumination in the hallway is bad and consists of just warm, dim lighting, but it’s enough to highlight Hongjoong’s cheekbones and make his brown eyes darker yet soft as they look up at Yunho. The red hair looks rather brown like this, more like the color he had four years ago.

Hongjoong’s entire posture screams hesitance and awkwardness, but he pushes himself off of the wall to stand in front of Yunho.

“Um, hey,” the older says, quietly. “So, we, uh, meet again.”

Yunho ponders whether he should leave or stay. One look at those dazzling eyes and the decision is taken out of his control.

He hums. “We meet again.”

Hongjoong smiles faintly.

“Sorry for running away earlier, I was surprised to see you… I didn’t think that I would—”

“No, yeah, same,” Yunho agrees clumsily. 

It feels like a dream, a subconscious and buried deep desire pulled out of its depths to haunt and hurt Yunho. He wants to hold onto this, to allow this reunion to happen, but he promised himself he wouldn’t. He told himself, four years ago, that he can’t allow this to happen. He has other priorities now, different perspectives… Hongjoong doesn’t fit into that storyline, not anymore.

“So…” Hongjoong starts, licking his lips as he searches for the right words to start this conversation.

“I’m sorry, hyung, I just don’t… I don’t—I _ can’t_.” Yunho clenches his jaw and looks away, whatever brief hopes appeared are quick to ebb out and this clear picture of Hongjoong breaks apart. 

He’ll stay in Yunho’s memories like this, though, with the now red hair and the piercings, and those dazzling brown eyes. He’ll always stay in his memories, the ones that remain lost and roam freely.

“Yunho…” Hongjoong says, smile falling, and a coldness in his tone that Yunho last heard four years ago.

“No. You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I do, believe me, I do,” Hongjoong says, interrupting him, and lets out a hollow and short laugh.

“You don’t,” Yunho counters, challenging. Hongjoong looks up at him, clenching his fists, with a fire in his eyes that promises to burn down Yunho and his words. “You didn’t back then, and you don’t want to now.”

“You never even explained it to me,” Hongjoong insists, crossing his arms now, as if he’s holding back from reaching out and punching Yunho.

“It’s not that complicated to understand,” Yunho huffs. “Not everyone has the luxury of-of—”

“Of _what_?” Hongjoong’s tone is bitter, laced with venom. “I was _ lucky _ I managed to find a flat and move out. I was lucky, it wasn’t a luxury. We were in the same boat, you still are… I got off in time.”

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yunho says, the urge to shove Hongjoong is strong.

“I don’t?”

“I’m sorry that I can’t just stand up against my own family like… Like you did. It’s not the same for everyone, all right?” he spits out and shoulders past Hongjoong, walking down the hallway until he reaches the staircase, he sprints down, nearly tripping towards the end, but he catches himself. 

He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts, with Hongjoong’s words, with all the memories of a time he hoped was forgotten, that he doesn’t register his name being called until someone clasps a hand around his wrist to stop him. When he turns around, he comes face to face with the girl he invited to come to the party with him, that he wanted to ask out, and he feels incredibly guilty for not even bothering to look for her all night. He realizes then he probably sports only a minor crush on her, something ephemeral.

It makes his chest constrict in guilt and he feels truly horrible.

“Ah, sorry,” he says loudly so she can hear him. “I-I’ve got to go…”

She throws him an annoyed look, then she lets go of his wrist brusquely—which he deserves—and walks away, back to her friends. Yunho gulps, briefly hesitating whether he should apologize properly, but he supposes there’s a better moment for it, so he simply walks through the house until he reaches the front door. 

He leaves the party, feeling terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you, thank you for reading ^_^


	2. You wanna make yourself go through the pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Are we really about to kiss?_ Yunho wonders, a bit stupidly, because it looks as if they will, but the idea that Hongjoong would want to kiss him, seems so out of this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: there's some terrible parenting and mention of shitty relationships with parents !!

**6 years ago**

The realization that Yunho isn’t like other boys his age comes at the same time as he realizes that he won’t ever be able to fulfill his parents’s desires. That he isn’t that perfect boy they manufactured over the years and instead falls short in meeting their expectations. 

He becomes everything he isn’t supposed to when he is around fifteen, the same day that he meets Hongjoong, and that things start to _really_ make sense to him. 

He’s walking into the school’s theater club, where the big stage is, and he does it with the premise of dancing. He’s discovered he’s quite good at it and it helps him unwind and relax at the end of a long school day. 

Usually, the room is empty around this time of the day, but on that particular day there is someone in the room already, using up the stage to practice a strange choreography that Yunho hasn’t seen anyone ever use—it seems to be self made by the individual. He stands by the door, staring for a while, watching the person and quietly thinking about how it could’ve been done better.

Once the song ends, for the second time, he decides to make himself present. He can’t endure seeing that atrociousness one more time. The person, a boy around Yunho’s age, startles badly and turns red at an alarmingly quick pace.

“Oh! I didn’t know someone was going to use the room around this time,” the boy says apologetically. He’s smaller than Yunho, but his eyes are intense and mature looking. _Dazzling_. Yunho stops for a moment to just stare at the boy, enchanted. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, embarrassed, and passes a hand over his face.

“Ah! No, sorry,” Yunho replies, feeling his ears grow hot. “I usually dance around this time, I didn’t know you were using the room today.” He bows and turns around to leave, but the boy takes his wrist.

“Wait,” he says. ”You’re a dancer?” Yunho nods. “Could you maybe help me? I’m not that good of a dancer.”

“I could tell,” Yunho mumbles, grinning when the boy gasps offended.

“Nevermind.”

“No, sorry.” Yunho laughs. “I’m Jeong Yunho, by the way. Year 2.”

“Nice to meet you, Yunho-ssi. I’m Kim Hongjoong, Year 3.”

Yunho nods his head.

“So, what are you preparing this choreography for?”

Hongjoong looks down, his eyelashes fluttering. He seems embarrassed.

“Well, I’m looking to enter an entertainment company. They said that as great as it is that I compose my own music, without dance it’s not worth much…”

“You compose your own music?” Yunho asks excitedly. “That’s so cool!”

Hongjoong laughs. “Thank you…” He shrugs, self conscious and as if it isn’t a big deal.

Yunho wants to tell him that it’s incredible and he shouldn’t downplay it like that, but he holds back, realizing it would most likely not be received well, and Yunho would just end up looking like an obnoxious creep. Too excited and too annoying, he doesn’t want to ruin this potential new friendship.

“Lucky for you that I am an excellent dancer!” Yunho tells him instead, patting the other’s shoulder.

“Uh huh?” Hongjoong grins, moving his hand in the direction of the stage as if to tell Yunho to go on and show what he’s got.

Yunho hasn’t been a dancer that long and aside from the few classes he’s taken, it’s mostly self taught, which he knows won’t take him a long way, at some point he’ll have to learn it from a professional. But what he lacks in technique and theory, he believes he makes up in motivation and just pure, simple love towards the art of moving his body to music.

“Ah, well, give me a moment,” Yunho mumbles, feeling suddenly flustered. He scratches the back of his head as he tells himself that this is nothing, except that for some reason, he really wants to impress Hongjoong.

“Take your time, it’s okay,” Hongjoong promises him.

After a few more minutes of hyping himself up, Yunho finally takes the stage. He connects his phone to the speakers and plays the song that he’s been making a choreography for these past weeks. He stands in the center of the stage, and by the fourth sound of the bass resonating through the room he begins moving. It’s not long after that that he forgets why he’s even dancing in the first place, who’s there in the room with him.

For Yunho, dancing is a way to get away from what’s going on in his life. Such as his parents fighting at home; Yunho’s lingering stare at his classmate’s lips a few days ago and how he wondered what it would be like kissing that boy; the way his dad keeps slipping him pamphlets of possible colleges, abroad, with incredible Medicine programs—that Yunho really has no interest in. 

There’s a lot, so he dances it away. For those few minutes the song lasts, at least.

“_Wow_,” Hongjoong exhales once the music fades out and Yunho comes to a stop, breathing heavily.

There’s a long silence in which Yunho stands there, on stage, looking back at Hongjoong, and tries to understand the look in the older’s face, but not really being able to interpret it.

(Much later, when Yunho’s home and lying in his bed, he thinks about it again, and maybe he kind of knows what that look means, but it’s too far away for him to grasp and inspect, to study how it makes him feel.)

“So…” Yunho says, still breathing heavily, and hopes it’ll break whatever tension has been building up in the room. “Will that be good enough for you?”

Hongjoong startles and coughs, ducking his head. He stands up from where he was sitting by the edge of the stage. For a moment he doesn’t say anything and doesn’t look at Yunho, but then he lifts his head up and smiles.

“Yes, that was really amazing, Yunho-ssi. I believe with your help I might actually get accepted by one of the companies!”

Yunho laughs, embarrassed, but he feels flattered.

And that is how Yunho meets Hongjoong, at the time he already feels an undeniable attraction to the older boy, in the sense that he finds him interesting and cool, and looks up to him. Hongjoong with his dark brown hair, way too long and nearly covering his eyes, which are big and a dark, rich color of brown. Dazzling and so, so bright. They are captivating and during that time of his life, Yunho often finds himself searching them, maybe for a tad too long, without saying anything. Just openly staring. Hongjoong never seems to mind, just smiling shyly and staring back. 

That attraction shifts during one particularly suffocating summer, about a year later, when Yunho’s sixteen and Hongjoong seventeen, the latter stressing over his senior high school year coming up and what to do afterwards. Yunho might not be blissfully enjoying his teenagerhood—not like he once thought he would—but at least he’s not as stressed as Hongjoong over his future, not yet.

Hongjoong is balancing his classes, composing music, and training at a company, all while he has to part time, as his parents don’t support his dreams of becoming a music producer and have cut off his allowance, barely allowing him to live with them. It’s a strange relationship, Yunho thinks, less family and more unfortunate acquaintances. It makes him wonder, often, over his own relationship with his parents, if something like this would be possible for him too.

It’s a Friday night, not too late, but late enough that it’s starting to darken, and Yunho is walking up to the building Hongjoong trains at—not the company building, but somewhere else. Yunho promised, when Hongjoong got accepted, that he would look after his friend, so there he is, with takeout food and drinks, heading inside the building in search of the room his friend is practicing in.

Lately, Hongjoong has been stressing over dance again. He slacked off the moment he got accepted, dead set on showing his producer skills and prove himself through that, but he told Yunho that dance is still as important and he’s struggling.

Since Yunho doesn’t have classes and his part time job is during the day, he offered to help Hongjoong with dance again—plus, he makes sure the older takes proper care of himself, since he tends to neglect that a lot.

Yunho reaches the door he believes his friend hides behind, according to the location Hongjoong sent him about half an hour ago, and when he pushes the door, quietly as to not disrupt his friend, he finds Hongjoong focused on his own reflection as he moves to the beat of the music.

He’s gotten much better, Yunho thinks. He stands by the door, just watching with a mixture of pride and affection.

The music fades out, the only noises are Hongjoong’s ragged breathing and the sound of Seoul’s midnight traffic, filtering through the opened slit of the window. Hongjoong stares at himself with frustration and Yunho can see the way he’s crumbling under his own desire to be perfect at it, to exceed everyone’s expectations and become the best at it.

It’s a heart shattering thing to watch.

Yunho walks into the room before Hongjoong does something stupid, he isn’t sure what that stupid thing would be, but something about the downgrading way Hongjoong stares at himself makes Yunho become afraid.

“Hey, hyung,” he calls out, startling his friend.

“Oh, Yunho, hi.”

“Here, I brought you food,” Yunho says as he reaches out the bag for Hongjoong to take. “You should take a break.”

“But—”

“Hyung,” Yunho interrupts him, tone harsher than he intends to. “Hyung… I understand that this is your dream and you want it to become real, but you need to take care of yourself. You can’t become a good dancer without eating properly,” he scolds him, feeling weird as Hongjoong is older than him and usually is the one to look after Yunho, but once his dream is involved, it is as though he’s blinded by his desire to succeed.

“I…” Hongjoong sighs and sits down on the floor, patting the spot next to him. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Yunho huffs out a sigh, wanting to say more, but he refrains and just joins his friend.

“We have this sort of important performance soon… We’re going to get monitored by three pretty famous performers, and it’s going to get filmed and broadcasted on the internet… And I’m just—” He lets out a distressed sigh, running a hand through his sweaty hair, making a mess of it.

Yunho reaches out his hand to place it on Hongjoong’s shoulder, the t-shirt is wet with sweat and it’s rather disgusting, but Yunho keeps his hand there and moves his thumb in what he hopes is a calming and reassuring way.

“Hyung, you’re incredible,” he starts, wanting to say more, but Hongjoong’s head snaps up at the compliment, surprised, and his eyes widen. His face is flushed, which is most likely due to the exertion, but Yunho’s heart does a somersault anyway, and he knows his own cheeks are pink.

“You think so?” Hongjoong asks shyly. He licks his lips and looks down, his eyelashes fluttering. The tips of his ears are redder than before, and he wears a soft smile, like he can’t help it. His hands are in his lap, playing with his shoelaces.

Yunho nods his head, distracted by the fleeting thought that Hongjoong is pretty.

That sends Yunho panicking, his heart rate picks up and he feels short of breath, as if he ran a marathon, and everything feels funny. He swallows and looks away, clumsily grabbing the take out bag, the plastic rustles loudly in the practice room. Hongjoong startles but hides it with a smile, reaching out his hand to grab one of the containers.

“I’m starving,” he says.

“Yeah, me too.”

As they eat in silence, Yunho can’t stop thinking about the way his heart fluttered and the fact that now, when he glances up at Hongjoong, he sees the pretty way his friend’s eyelashes curl, or the pretty blush he wears after hours of dancing, and the ever bright way his eyes shine… He can’t keep away the thought that his friend has really pretty lips, and when Hongjoong smiles it makes Yunho feel weird and extremely aware of his surroundings and the way he moves and acts.

He hopes Hongjoong doesn’t notice that he’s staring, for the third time, and he hopes his suddenly awkward manners don’t give it away.

He knows that Hongjoong is attractive, has noticed it from the first time they met. Hongjoong has a captivating aura, something about the way he talks and moves his hands when he does—his excitement, it’s so bright and beautiful. When Hongjoong looks at Yunho, there’s never any kind of judgement or expectations, it feels as though, when he looks at Yunho, he simply _sees_ Yunho.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It never was something Yunho thought he had to think about, but now he realizes how precious that is, and how it makes him feel. All giddy and soft. He knows this feeling, has read about it, feels it when he listens to a particularly sad love song… In a way ,it’s similar to when he dances and feels so free and as if everything in his life just fits perfectly together, even if nothing makes sense to him.

_Oh_, he thinks, slightly detached of the current situation, _oh no_.

“I recall you being good with quick paced choreos,” Hongjoong starts up the conversation, food still in his mouth. Yunho shakes himself out of his thoughts and nods his head, not bothering to tell Hongjoong he’s being gross. “There’s this part where we have to—I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a lot happening… Especially with foot work! I’ll need your help for that,” he explains.

“Sure,” Yunho agrees easily, possibly digging himself into a deep hole.

Two hours later, they exit the building. Both with exhausting pulling at their four limbs and eyelids. Yunho wants nothing more than to grab a bus and head home, but Hongjoong said something about grabbing a quick snack at a convenience store nearby, to payback Yunho for the meal earlier and for helping him with dancing. 

Yunho wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to, but a big part of him really likes the prospect of hanging out some more with Hongjoong instead of going to bed already.

“Come on, I know how much you secretly love convenience store ramen,” Hongjoong is saying as they walk down the street, only the moon and the stars above, a far away street lamp lighting up the otherwise dark and empty road. “Plus, they have the best mango flavored drinks.”

“I’m pretty sure every store sells the same brands…” Yunho counters with a laugh.

Hongjoong pouts. “But, this one just tastes better, all right? You’ll see!”

“If you say so, hyung.”

“Yes, I say so!”

Yunho laughs again, amused by his friend’s childish antics. He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, just gives Hongjoong a look, eyebrows raised.

Hongjoong looks back, then sticks out his tongue, ready to run away while giggling. Yunho reaches out, grabbing his friend’s waist, and tickles him, as retaliation for his rude remark. It’s all playful and fun, until Hongjoong stops struggling and laughing, and just steps aside to stare up at Yunho.

And Yunho stops tickling him—stops breathing, too—and just stares down, his hands still on his friend’s waist, loosely now and barely gracing the soft fabric of the t-shirt. 

It’s one of those moments, when everything could fall apart or something new and uncharted could bloom. A two way path unfolding in front of Yunho, but he doesn’t know which one is the right one. He’s terrified of moving, so he stands still, with his heart about to leap out of his chest, and his fingers twitching as his hands shake the slightest bit.

He’s passing the ball on to Hongjoong, and hopes he shows in equal amounts that he would lean in, but that it’s not too obvious in case this is not that kind of situation. In case he’s reading it wrongly and this is a one sided feeling; a one sided crossroad only he’s forced to choose a direction from.

Hongjoong breathes in, staggering, and searches Yunho’s face. His brown eyes wide and full of an expression Yunho hasn’t seen him ever wear: uncertainty. And something else he can’t really name, is too distracted to find a name for it.

Hongjoong licks his lips, stands up on his tiptoes, and leans in slowly. Yunho’s heart beats so fast he’s scared he might die right there, but even in his hazed state of mind, he remembers to lean down slightly because, even on his tiptoes, Hongjoong is still smaller and that would only lead to a very awkward kiss. 

_Are we really about to kiss?_ Yunho wonders, a bit stupidly, because it looks as if they will, but the idea that Hongjoong (Kim Hongjoong: the coolest and prettiest and most hardworking person he’s ever met) would want to kiss him, seems so out of this world. 

Hongjoong has his hands daning by his own sides, whereas Yunho still has them resting loosely on his friend’s waist, now a bit more firmly because he can feel Hongjoong’s hot breath against his lips, and he needs something to hold on to. 

Somewhere, faintly, there’s the sound of an airplane flying above them while the crickets sing loudly in that summer’s night.

But Yunho can’t focus on any sounds because Hongjoong is kissing him. It’s soft and chaste, but very thrilling and mind hazing. And he knows he will want to do it again once it’s over.

Hongjoong pulls away after a while, laughing awkwardly, not allowing Yunho to lean in again.

“Uh, well, so,” Hongjoong stutters out, stepping back. “I-I… We should go to the convenience store before it closes,” he says quickly and gives Yunho his back, walking away. 

Yunho wants to tell him that the store has opened 24/7, but he doesn’t, he just follows him, quietly and trying to process what just happened. 

“Come on!” Hongjoong calls out.

The singing of the crickets crashes back with an intensity that nearly deafens Yunho.

They never kissed again after that.

Partly, it’s because Hongjoong gets busy with his training and barely has time to hang out, he barely even comes to school, so dedicated and focused on _making it_, that he forgets there are other things in life. Yunho isn’t mad about it, maybe a bit sad that he doesn’t get to see him, but it’s fine. Hongjoong is graduating from school soon anyway, and Yunho will start his senior year, which means there’s a lot of studying in his imminent future and worrying about university.

Whereas Hongjoong spends his nights dancing and practicing his rapping and music producing skills, Yunho prepares himself to have The Talk with his dad about university. He doesn’t want to move away to America for an elite college, he wants to stay in Seoul, study something he likes, maybe even dance related. He knows that’s a pipe dream, and he’ll have to compromise, he just hopes his dad will be somehow on board. 

He has been looking into different universities, with different programs, and he found one that is mainly science related but it has an art program as well. He brings it up one night, during dinner, not aware, at the time, that it would mark the beginning of the end.

The first domino piece of many that would slowly ruin his relationship with his parents.

“School of Science and Technology?” his dad asks, eyebrows twitching. 

Not a good sign, Yunho thinks grimly.

“And Performing Arts,” Yunho adds silently. His mom sends him a warning glance, she doesn’t say anything though. “Not that I would want to take Arts. Just… It offers that as well.” He swallows, sensing his dad’s protests already.

“Then, why can’t you go to one in America?”

“Because I don’t—I don’t want to,” Yunho admits, scared. “I want to study here in Seoul.”

“But the program is so much better and you could get into a fraternity that can give you incredible advantages in life, especially if you become a doctor and—”

“I don’t want to become a doctor, dad!” he interrupts his father, a bit too loud. He immediately recoils, looking down. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to yell,” he apologizes.

“Where does this-this disrespectful behavior come from?” his dad demands to know.

“I-I… Nowhere,” Yunho sutters out, unsure how to make his father understand he simply doesn’t want to become a doctor, he doesn’t want to go to America… That he doesn’t want to get married after university and have kids and a normal job. He doesn’t want to be the son they’ve worked hard for him to become. “I just… I like this school and it doesn’t cost much, I even saved up for the first semester and…” He goes quiet, too afraid now to bring up that, although he would major in a science or technology related career, he has his eyes on the dancing program. 

“And what?” his mom asks, her tone sharp.

“Well, you know how I’ve been taking dance classes lately,” he starts; his dad huffs, clearly annoyed about it. “The school also has a dance program…”

“_Aha_!” his dad exclaims, pointing his index finger at his son in a threatening and accusatory way. “There it is! This is why, isn’t it? You want to become a dancer, just admit it!” he’s yelling now and Yunho never felt so afraid in his life.

“No!” he protests weakly. “I want to take Biology or something related to it. Maybe Computer Science. I still have a few months before applying, so I’ll think it over… I just thought, as a minor degree, if it won’t be too much I could take Contemporary Dance. I would pay for it myself,” he tries his best to stay calm and rational, to appease in the best way possible to his parents desires and the picture of the perfect son they’ve created over the years, that he’s catered to. That they have conditioned him to be.

But his dad is standing up, furious.

“Liar!” he accuses Yunho. “Don’t lie to me! You’re trying to-to make that little selfish dream of yours come true! You never considered what would be the best for you and your family… We’ve raised you, given you a home. Your mother and I have worked so hard for you to be able to live a perfect life! We’ve saved up so you could be able to study at an elite school in America… _America_!” His father is on a roll now, barely breathing, his tone raised and loud, and drowning Yunho. “After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us? By wanting to become a dancer?” He shakes his head, hurt. “Unbelievable!”

“Dad, I—” Yunho says, trying to find the words. It’s not the first time he’s heard some of these statements, but it’s the first time they’re being thrown at him in such an aggressive way. The first time he takes them to heart like this and the first time they hurt quite like this. He wants to curl up into a ball and cry, maybe rip out his heart. “I don’t—”

His father shakes his head, looking away from Yunho, as if the sight of his own son hurts him. Maybe it does, Yunho realizes. He doesn’t want his parents to hurt, but he can’t imagine a life where he does something he doesn’t like, where he gives up dance. In a way, that would mean giving up everything that’s good in his life, which includes Hongjoong, and he can’t do that—_he just can’t_.

He doesn’t even want to imagine, right now, what his father would say if he were to disclose on that kiss with Hongjoong and that he has a crush on a boy.

“If this is… If you choose dance, then I don’t want to see you here again,” his dad says lowly. His mom is clutching onto her husband’s arm, trying to soothe him.

“Dad,” Yunho says weakly, trying to defend himself, but he doesn’t know what to say.

And as if the night couldn’t get any worse, his dad suddenly starts breathing heavily and erratically, and before anyone can do anything, he collapses.

Hours later, in the hospital, Yunho decides that for now he won’t bring up this topic again. He’ll have to push away dancing for now, do it secretly when no one is around.

He never knew how quickly life could turn around and become terrifying, but that night was the solid proof that Yunho’s life has changed. He isn’t what his parents want him to be, and maybe he’s always known, but it’s the first time he’s felt it so intensely. It’s the first time he’s felt like a failure and a disappointment for not filling out their expectations.

He wishes, as he stares at the white hospital wall, that Hongjoong were there. Yunho thinks he would understand this, as he’s often talked about his terrible relationship with his parents, the little ways in which they would manipulate him and hurt him, and reinforce the toxic behaviors that they learnt…

Yunho sees it all now, reflected in his own broken relationship with his parents, and it pains him terribly.

The last time Yunho speaks to Hongjoong it’s late November, such a complicated and cold time of the year.

They’ve not stayed in contact over the summer and when fall comes, Yunho is alone in school whereas Hongjoong is still training—trying to stay in the company through hard work, twice as much as is healthy.

Yunho is surprised to receive a call at around 1am, even though it’s a Wednesday and he’s got school the following morning, he still picks up.

It’s Hongjoong.

“Hyung,” Yunho greets him quietly, so as to not wake up or alert his parents.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong whispers, voice hoarse. He sounds sad, as if he just cried.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asks worriedly.

“I-I…” There’s a silence, some rustling. Then there’s the sound of traffic coming from the other side, it’s somehow comforting. Yunho opens his window a bit, just enough to hear Seoul’s traffic in the distance; it makes him feel a bit more connected to Hongjoong in that instant. They’ve been so distant lately, and it pains him. “No,” Hongjoong finally answers.

“Did something happen?” Yunho asks, staring at the grayish sky, no stars or moon visible that night. The street lamp outside has a harsh, white light—it used to be yellow and warm, inviting, now it’s just so cold. Yunho doesn’t like it.

Hongjoong sighs, it’s a heart wrenching sound, as if he’s still crying in this instant and is trying not to so he can talk to Yunho. 

“I got kicked out of the company… They said I’m not good enough.”

“Oh, hyung,” Yunho says, sad and angry, and just completely helpless. He wishes he could be right next to Hongjoong to hug him. “Where are you?”

“It’s fine. I’m going home.”

“What?! But your parents, they—”

“Not to my parents’s, I saved up some money and am staying in a small one room flat,” Hongjoong explains, interrupting him. He sounds tired and dejected. 

“Still, I could come over,” Yunho offers.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

“Hyung…”

“Really, I’m fine,” Hongjoong insists, tone becoming snappy.

Yunho swallows.

He knows how Hongjoong can get when he’s in a sour mood or hurt, it’s not friendly and he can say quite the cruel things. Yunho has witnessed it when he rants about his parents. He never thought he would be at the receiving end of that tone, a cause for it. Not that he’s really the cause for it, but he’s the only one there right now to endure it.

On the other hand, Yunho has been dealing with a lot lately, too, and he’s become easily frustrated and angry. He constantly feels like a caged animal, especially at home, which once used to be a safe haven, a place for him to relax and recharge his batteries, now is just another battlefield. He walks around on thin ice, avoiding his parents—especially his dad—and waiting for the next day to arrive so he can go to school, then work—to spend as much time as possible away from home.

Two forces like these, brimming with tension and so easily breakable—vulnerable—are not a good combination. 

Yunho should offer for them to talk the next morning, when both aren’t exhausted and worn out with their emotions run thin, but instead he keeps the phone pressed to his ear, biting his bottom lip anxiously as he stares at the same starless sky he knows Hongjoong is looking at.

“Sorry for being concerned,” Yunho says, tone accusative.

“Concerned?” Hongjoong asks, laughing hollowly. (Ah, there it is, Yunho thinks.) “If you really were concerned you would have checked in much sooner,” Hongjoong argues. 

Yunho clenches his jaw. “You could’ve checked in as well!” His tone is much louder than he intents to, but Hongjoong is railing him up.

“I’m busy training. I barely have time to eat! You know that!” Hongjoong is starting to sound properly angry, not just snappy. 

He sounds defensive and afronted, and Yunho wants to hang up, to stop this before it gets out of hand, but as he looks away from the sky, his eyes fall onto his desk. Anger fills him up, not towards Hongjoong, but towards his father. The frustration of his current situation gets the best of him.

The Hongjoong shaped hole that has been in his heart the past months, ever since that kiss, as if Hongjoong was ashamed of it. It hurts Yunho, and it pushes him to laugh bitterly, meanly into his phone.

“Oh, don’t be a baby! You chose this, so _fucking_ deal with it! Do you even know what I’m going through?”

“Yunho…” Hongjoong mutters, taken aback and angry. “What is it, that’s so terrible in your life, huh? Is it living comfortably at home? Is it your mom’s home cooked meals? Your dad’s money? Does your perfect little life bother you so much?” he asks, tone mocking.

For a moment, Yunho doesn’t know what to say, rendered speechless. “You’re horrible,” he whispers and is about to hang up, too hurt and angry to think properly.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah… You know what really _fucking_ hurts, hyung? That you ran away after kissing me.” Yunho isn’t sure why he brings that up then, why he shows that vulnerable side of himself in this fight of theirs, but he feels as though it’s important to bring up. He needs Hongjoong to know that he doesn’t regret it.

“W-What?” Hongjoong stutters, his tone completely different than the venomous one he had seconds ago.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore… like whatever, you know? I’ve already got enough on my plate as it is,” Yunho tells him bitterly. For a crazy second, he wishes Hongjoong would come to him, rescue him of this home, but he pushes it away.

“Yeah, well, so do I,” Hongjoong shoots back, his tone completely empty now. As empty and numb as Yunho feels. Without another word Hongjoong hangs up. 

Yunho still has the phone pressed against his ear, tears streaming down his cheeks, when he hears his father’s loud stomping footsteps in the hallway, sounding threatening and terrifying. The door to Yunho’s room opens violently, he doesn’t turn around. He keeps looking out of his window.

“What are you doing awake?!” his father yells angrily. “Go to bed!” he demands.

Yunho nods his head. “Sorry,” he mumbles hoarsely.

The door of his room slams shut loudly and his heart breaks at the sound of it.


	3. Take my lungs, break my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate is funny sometimes, a real comedian. Or maybe it’s just coincidence, who is cruel and makes humans suffer in insecurity, keeps them wondering and wondering. Whatever the factor is that pushes the following events, when Hongjoong pulls out the yellow straw he wants to scream because Yunho is holding a yellow straw himself, looking awkwardly at Hongjoong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is in Hongjoong's POV!!

Kim Hongjoong bites the plastic cap of his pen anxiously as he stares at the differently colored bars on his laptop screen with mild frustration. The melody he has been working on for a week now doesn’t make sense and he’s supposed to hand it in this Thursday. It’s currently a Tuesday afternoon in early October. It’s a short project, nothing too big, but Hongjoong is a perfectionist and he can’t settle for a mediocre tune with a shitty grade, because from there on it’ll just spiral down. 

He’ll start to settle for mediocrity as normalcy, and he’s not come this far for _ that_.

He wants to yell at his laptop and throw it out of his window, where he knows it would break since he lives on the fifth floor of The Block, the tallest building in the neighborhood. He refrains from acting out on his frustrations and instead presses the save button on the screen and closes the lid of his laptop, exhaling slowly through his mouth.

His shoulders hurt from the tension and stress in his life, so he rolls his head, ignoring the flaring pain that shoots up his neck. He stretches out his arms over his head, getting out of his desk chair so he can perform a few stretching poses his therapist recommended him to do, for when he's spent too much time holed up in his tiny room, sitting in front of his laptop. 

Hongjoong’s body hurts so bad these days and it doesn’t help that it’s winter time, and The Block’s heating system breaks more often than it functions. He’s saving up for a spare blanket because he doesn’t know for how long he can keep sleeping like this, freezing to death. He used to have one, but some asshole stole it, and recently he had to invest into some music recording equipment, putting his career over his own health (his therapist would shake her head at him).

Hongjoong is about to just lie down on his bed and call it a day, when his phone vibrates, nearly falling off of his small desk. He grabs it quickly and unlocks it, seeing it’s a text message from his friend, Kang Yeosang, who is pretty much his only friend at the moment, asking him if he wants to meet up for an early dinner.

Hongjoong isn’t the most charismatic and people magnet person, not anymore at least. He recently had a fight with Park Seonghwa, his childhood friend, whom he has an on and off friendship with—complicated matter. He met Yeosang through Seonghwa three years ago, when the former started university, and they get along spectacularly.

He texts Yeosang that he’ll come out in ten minutes, his grumbling stomach winning over his sleepiness. 

Down in the street, Hongjoong shivers, his thin jacket not doing much against the harsh wind that sweeps up the leaves on the pavement into a colorful, small wind swirl. Yeosang stands by the bike rack, backpack slung over his shoulders, his thick winter coat elegantly moving in the wind. He reminds Hongjoong of a classy Grim Reaper.

Yeosang looks up, putting away his phone, which he was using, and smiles. “Hyung!”

“Hey.” Hongjoong walks up to him, about to boop Yeosang’s nose, when he sees a tall person jogging up to The Block. “Ah, shit,” he whispers.

“What is it?” Yeosang asks, frowning. He turns around to look at what Hongjoong was looking at, and he smiles again. “Yunho-ssi!” he exclaims, waving at the taller one. “What are you doing here?”

Yunho slows down, surprised to see them. His black hair is tousled by the wind, slightly curled. He’s wearing a black hoodie and some washed out jeans with rips by the knees, from his wrist dangles a plastic bag. His cheeks are rosy, probably because of the cold, and his eyes widen once they settle on Hongjoong, who feels less than adequate in his old sweatpants and overly big hoodie—his unwashed and messy hair thankfully hidden beneath a beanie.

“That’s mine…” is what Yunho says, stopping in front of them, and staring at Hongjoong’s chest—more specifically at the hoodie. Hongjoong blushes, having forgotten that it once belonged to Yunho. “I thought I lost it, but turns out you… Ah, well.” He laughs nervously, his eyes snapping away from Hongjoong to turn to Yeosang, who has his eyebrows raised in confusion and curiosity. “Yeosang-ssi, it’s nice to see you again!”

“You too,” Yeosang says, distractedly looking in between the two. “So, you know Hongjoong hyung?”

Yunho shoots Hongjoong a look, it’s pleading and his eyebrows are pulled in a way that’s meant to be pitiful—his puppy dog eyes—and Hongjoong doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean. Is he asking him to not reveal their story? Is he apologizing for his harsh words when they bumped into one another during summer? 

Yunho looks at Yeosang again, smiling. “Yes, I know him from high school.”

“_Oh_.” Yeosang raises his eyebrows at Hongjoong, his look promises a whole load of questions later on. “He never mentioned you… Uh, sorry,” he apologizes quickly, realizing how that must have sounded like.

“It’s okay.”

“You know I don’t talk about high school,” Hongjoong finally speaks, uncomfortable with the situation, but at the same time it’s nice to see Yunho. 

Maybe Yunho still resents him, still is trapped by his parents’s expectations on him, but Hongjoong wants to apologize for the words he used during their fight four years ago, and if he’s honest, he would befriend him again. That instant magnetic pull he felt all those years ago, when he met Yunho for the first time, it’s still there—maybe even stronger now, if possible.

Yunho looks undeniably good, he’s grown even taller, his facial features have matured and he’s grown handsome. He’s a nice looking young man, and Hongjoong really wants to get to know him again.

“I know, I know, it was a difficult time for you,” Yeosang says. “But you could’ve said something…”

Yunho looks awkward now, his smile forced.

“Sorry,” Hongjoong apologizes, not addressing anyone in particular.

“Well, as nice as this has been,” Yunho says, frowning at Hongjoong’s apology. “I’m supposed to meet Mingi in his room for dungeon missions, so…”

“Dungeon missions?” Yeosang repeats skeptically.

“Yeah, we play _World of Warcraft_…”

“Of course you do.” Yeosang laughs. “Well, see you around Yunho-ssi.” 

With one last strained smile, Yunho jogs up to The Block, where he stops to ring at presumably Mingi’s door. He turns around once to stare at them, but upon getting caught he turns away quickly. From the short distance, Hongjoong can see Yunho’s ears turn red; it makes him smile faintly.

“So, Jeong Yunho?” Yeosang asks once they walk to the place the younger proposed they check out. A new place, a few blocks from The Block, where they have the supposedly best grilled pork and _jajangmyeon_, in between other dishes. “You two were friends in high school?”

Hongjoong sighs, it’s inevitable. “Yeah.”

“Huh…” Yeosang pouts, deep in thought. “Is he… the one you spoke about to me? Your first love?”

Hongjoong wants to protest or shove Yeosang, or kick the pavement. Do something that will distract him of the flutter in his chest and the crashing pain, both visiting him at the same time. All he does is inhale deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and then exhales slowly.

“Yes, that’s him.” He swallows, waiting for Yeosang’s reaction.

It feels weird unpacking it so suddenly, in the middle of the street, but maybe there will never be a better time. He just wishes Seonghwa would be here too. Because then he doesn’t have to tell him once they reconcile, but another reason, the definitely bigger one, is because Seonghwa has a calming effect on him.

“That’s unexpected…” Yeosang says after a short silence. “Not who I imagined your first love to be. He’s so… I don’t know how to put it. He seems very put together and… _ plain_?” Yeosang side glances at him, waiting for him to defend Yunho, but Hongjoong just shrugs. “I guess I always imagined someone more like you.”

“How much do you know him?” he asks, curious now. He knows that Seonghwa has befriended Yunho, and that Yeosang takes a shared class with him, but he isn’t sure how much they’ve bonded; if they ever talked about Hongjoong. 

“I’ve hung out with him a couple of times after class… Mostly because he’s become good friends with San and Wooyoung, so we’re friends by association…?” He shrugs. “I suppose I don’t know him much, probably not as good as you do.”

“He’s changed… Or at least, he seems to have changed. Back then, he was more carefree, at least when I met him. It changed over time, especially because—” Hongjoong stops talking, not sure this is fair mentioning without Yunho’s consent.

“Because?”

“Well, let’s just say, shit happened. I got out, he apparently didn’t…”

“Got out?” Yeosang echoes, a worried look crossing his face. “What do you mean by that?”

Hongjoong shakes his head to which his friend lets out a sigh, but thankfully doesn’t keep asking. That’s what Hongjoong appreciates about Yeosang, he doesn’t push him if he doesn’t want to be pushed. Seonghwa has a tendency to overstep sometimes, hence their argument; still, he misses him terribly. He’s going to call him tomorrow and fix things. 

The remainder of the walk to the place is spend in quietness, only the strong wind and the rustling of leaves dragging across the floor is sounding. It’s slightly haunting, but Hongjoong is working through the encounter with Yunho, whereas Yeosang seems to shoot him glances every couple of seconds, trying to understand what happened.

“Hyung, if you want to talk about it… I’m here,” Yeosang offers before they enter the restaurant, giving him a serious yet soft look. “Or if you want to curse out Yunho, I’ll be there, helping you with the cursing.” He tries for a smile, it’s hesitant.

Hongjoong laughs, it’s weak and he definitely feels thrown off after seeing Yunho, but part of him feels freed, now that a person close to him knows the truth—or, well, part of it. He punches Yeosang’s shoulder softly.

“Get inside.” He nods his head at the door. “I’ll invite you tonight.”

Yeosang beams at him.

“You’re the best!” he says in a singsong voice as he swings open the door, holding it for Hongjoong.

Surprisingly, or maybe not that much, Hongjoong attends the Halloween party that year. At first, he didn’t want to, but Yeosang convinced him. Plus, he just reconciled with Seonghwa, who is one of the hosts and begged Hongjoong to _please, please, please assist the party, even if it’s only for twenty minute_s.

His costume was thrown together last minute, it consisted of an old pair of leather pants from Seonghwa, some black cat ears that Hongjoong bought at a cheap party shop, and some pretty well drawn cat whiskers by Yeosang (plus some eyeliner and eyeshadow, _ it’s Halloween, hyung! Don’t be shy! _ his friend had yelled in excitement).

At least it’s a private house party, meaning he doesn’t have to pay for the drinks or entrance. He doesn’t know how Seonghwa and his friends manage to throw these parties, he’s heard some stories and vague explanations of his friend, but never a clear one. Not that it’s really his business, especially because he barely shows up—his first one was the summer party. 

He thinks back to that party, where he bumped into Yunho unexpectedly. He supposes his old friend will be at the Halloween one as well, and knowing his luck, Hongjoong will most likely bump into him tonight too. Their group of friends aren’t exactly heavily involved, but they’re acquaintances and friendly with one another.

Seonghwa and Yeosang know Yunho, have hung out with him. Hongjoong knows Jongho and Wooyoung. Another awkward and most likely rude encounter between Yunho and Hongjoong is bound to happen.

“What’s the scowl for?” Yeosang asks him as they exit The Block, two hours later than they initially planned.

It’s Yeosang’s fault, he ruined his Harley Quinn wig and had to wash it, then dry it and brush it. The whole process took longer than they thought, so they watched a random movie on _ Netflix_, which ended up being so interesting and enthralling that they lost track of time.

“Just thinking about, well…” Hongjoong hesitates, glancing at his friend. They’ve discussed the Yunho topic, after the run in weeks ago, a couple of times, barely scratching the surface of it. “Yunho is probably going to be there. Not sure how I’m feeling about that,” he chooses to confess.

Yeosang pauses and looks at him, scanning his face.

“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. We can go back and watch some other obscure and strange American film.”

The offer is tempting and Hongjoong does consider it, but he shakes his head.

“No,” he says decidedly. “I promised you and Seonghwa. Besides, it seems as if fate pushes us together. Maybe this is for us to, I don’t know, _learn_ from our past mistakes or something.”

Yeosang hums.

“I’ll be by your side the whole night,” he promises.

“No doubt.” Hongjoong grins.

Yeosang isn’t the most _social butterfly_ himself; after a few shots he _does_ loosen up, but only with few and selective people he becomes a wild party animal. One of those being his old friend from high school: Jeong Wooyoung. But Wooyoung has fallen tragically sick this Halloween, meaning Yeosang doesn’t really know anyone at the party aside from Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

_ Maybe it’s for the best_, Hongjoong thinks. That way, he has guaranteed company and even if it’ll be incredibly lame, he won’t be left alone to do dumb mistakes.

“Come on, Seonghwa hyung is sending me angry memes,” Yeosang says, picking up his pace. The baseball bat that was part of his costume gets dumped inside a trashcan before they reach the house the party is held at. “I don’t know why I bought it, it’s so annoying to carry around.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t buy the cat tail…” Hongjoong says, wincing at the thought.

Yeosang laughs. “Ah, I don’t know, hyung. It definitely would have been memorable.”

Hongjoong shoves him, but he’s laughing. “Shut up!”

Inside the house, it takes them a while to adjust to the darkness. Just colorful flashing lights, showing their surroundings. All that is white glows abnormally, standing out in the darkness.

_ Ultraviolet lights_, Hongjoong thinks, looking around, a bit entranced. When Yeosang laughs, pointing at Hongjoong’s white converse, his own teeth stand out uncannily.

They find the kitchen after opening and closing a few doors, where Seonghwa is making sure drinks and snacks are stocked up. He looks stressed, but Jongho is with him, helping out.

Seonghwa is dressed in a suit, his black hair gelled back, from his collar hangs a pair of sunglasses. A toy gun lies on the kitchen counter. It’s more of a handsome and sexy costume than actually scary. Jongho, on the other hand, looks impactful in his long, black cloak; his face is painted white and his lips red as blood. He has black eyeshadow making his eyes pop out more, the red colored contact lenses adding onto the already creepy image. A pair of fake teeth lies next to the toy gun.

“You came!” Seonghwa greets them, once they make themselves present. “Huh, you look better than I thought you would,” he addresses Yeosang, who does a little twirl in the kitchen to show off his costume. Hongjoong agrees, he does look incredibly good. “You, on the other hand…” He looks Hongjoong up and down, laughing.

“Shut up, you knew I wasn’t planning on coming! This is the best I could do on such short notice,” Hongjoong protests, playfully punching his shoulder.

“You know, hyung,” Jongho starts, tapping his chin with his index finger as he gives Hongjoong a once over. “A cat tail would have _ definitely _ changed the game.”

“Oh, not you too,” Hongjoong bemoans, rolling his eyes. 

“This is so tragic,” Yeosang says dramatically.

Choi San enters the kitchen, holding two six packs of beer. He’s dressed as a Slytherin. Behind him enters Yunho, looking ridiculous in his cheap Thor costume. Hongjoong wants to laugh, but he simply looks away when Yunho’s eyes fall on him, surprise written on his face. San drops the beer on a table packed with drinks, Yunho helps him rip the plastic off to place them inside the fridge.

“You know what’s tragic?” San asks, stopping what he’s doing to glare at the group in the kitchen. “Wooyoung not being here. We were going to wear couple costumes! Him as a Gryffindor, and I as Slytherin. We bought them three months ago! _Three_!” He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

Jongho rolls his eyes, but does pat his shoulder twice.

“He’s been going on about that the whole night,” Yunho mumbles, half exasperated, half amused.

Seonghwa shakes his head in sympathy as he keeps making sure there are enough snacks. Yeosang and Hongjoong do stand around a bit uselessly, the latter’s fingers itch to be doing something. He hasn’t really been able to chill for years, so whenever he’s left with doing _ nothing_, he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

Once San and Yunho are done filling up the fridge with as much beer as they could, they lean against the table in the room, opposite from where Yeosang, Jongho, and Hongjoong are leaning against the kitchen counter. Seonghwa is seated on a stool, nursing a cocktail he prepared for himself, an empty and tired look on his face.

An awkward silence is spread in the room, the loud music sounding muffled in the kitchen for some reason—or maybe the drink Hongjoong has been drinking for the past half an hour is finally hitting him.

“Hongjoong-ssi, could you pass me one of the lime beer?” San asks of him, pointing at the green colored soda cans. 

Hongjoong grabs one and leans forward to pass it to him, he realizes belatedly that he’s sort of invading Yunho’s personal space so he leans back as soon as San has the can, feeling his ears grow warm.

“So, Halloween?” Jongho says dryly, glancing around. “_Whoop_, _whoop_, am I right?”

Yeosang laughs. “Shut up!”

“If Wooyoung were here, he would surely hype this up…” San bemoans, taking a sip of his beer. “Or at least I could escape with him to go dance.”

“I’m honestly glad Wooyoung and Mingi are both sick,” Seonghwa says quietly, he’s still staring off emptily into the distance. “They would’ve given me a migraine.”

San scowls, as if he wants to say something in Wooyoung’s defence, but he ends up saying nothing, just sighs and sips his beer.

“This is just like the parties Mingi and Yunho throw…” Jongho complains. Hongjoong looks at Yunho, trying to be subtle, but Yunho is already staring at him. “They pretend to be all cool, but then just sit around to drink quietly and play video games. Honestly, it’s so _fucking_ lame!”

Yeosang snorts, which earns him a betrayed look from Yunho.

“You decided to befriend us, Jongho,” Yunho reminds him, tone fake hurt. “And don’t forget, you have a very precious night elf feral druid on level 66… I have video proof of you going _absolutely_ _crazy_ over how you can shape-shift into an owl and fly around the game world.” He smirks when Jongho goes red, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Shut up! You insisted I play with you two so you could play dungeons,” he tries to defend himself lamely. “Without me being your healer, you two would have died!”

“Invite me along some day,” Seonghwa says, blinking out of his numb stare. “I play as well.”

“_Seriously_?” Yeosang asks, mild disgust on his face. “Is everyone except for me and Hongjoong hyung a huge nerd here?”

“Don’t you fly that shitty drone?” Hongjoong teases him, laughing when Yeosang takes offense on behalf of his drone. He is about to ask about Yeosang’s skateboarding career when San clears his throat.

“We should play a game,” he interrupts them, opening his second beer.

“If you’re going to propose spin the bottle I’ll break your neck, hyung,” Jongho warns him.

“That’s scary, don’t say that,” Yunho tells the youngest, a concerned look crossing his face.

“I was going to say, since it’s Halloween and it’s pretty dark in the rest of the house, we play a scavenger hunt!” San’s proposal is met with silence. “Oh, come you guys… We make teams, write down a list of ten costumes we have to find in the crowd, take a pic with them or of them; I don’t know! I don’t care! I’m just bored and I promised Seonghwa hyung I’ll help him clean up, but that’s not going to happen if I fall asleep out of boredom!” San deflates after his rant, looking at his friends with pleading eyes.

“Well, I suppose, we could play something,” Yeosang says, and the others nod.

“We’re six people, so… Three teams of two?” Hongjoong asks. There are a bunch of approving sounds. “How do we make the teams?”

“Don’t you have colored straws?” Yunho asks, addressing Seonghwa, who nods. Then Yunho looks directly at Hongjoong. “I say we take three colors and choose with eyes closed.”

“Uh, sure, yes,” Hongjoong replies, feeling weird and flustered that Yunho is talking to him, especially after his harsh words during summer. 

(Maybe it’s because Yunho’s slightly drunk or has reconsidered his initial negative reaction towards reencountering Hongjoong.)

Fate is funny sometimes, a real comedian. Or maybe it’s just coincidence, who is cruel and makes humans suffer in insecurity, keeps them wondering and wondering. Whatever the factor is that pushes the following events, when Hongjoong pulls out the yellow straw he wants to scream because Yunho is holding a yellow straw himself, looking awkwardly at Hongjoong.

Yeosang shoots Hongjoong a worried look, as if asking is he’s okay with it, so he nods his head to assure his friend that he can deal with this.

“Aw, Jongho is with me,” San coos as he draws the same colored straw as Jongho, and boops the younger’s nose.

Jongho glares at him, letting out an offended _ ugh_.

“Well, seems like little drone boy and I get the last two straws,” Seonghwa says, taking the two red straws and puts them away. Yeosang squints his eyes at him, but doesn’t say anything to the nickname. “Everyone has the list on their phones?” he asks, once everyone either nods or affirms, he continues, “I guess with that, the hunt begins!”

“Yay,” Jongho drawls out.

“Come on, we can’t lose,” San says, trying to drag his teammate out of the kitchen.

“There’s literally no punishment for the losers, so I don’t care,” Jongho says petulantly, like a little kid that just outsmarted an adult.

“Oh, right…” San stops. “Losers clean up the house in the morning!” That gets the group to move out of the kitchen.

Yunho and Hongjoong exchange an awkward glance as they stride out of the kitchen behind Seonghwa and Yeosang. The other two groups disperse quickly, searching in the darkness for the costumes, whereas Yunho lingers back, fidgeting with his toy hammer. Hongjoong, noticing his hesitance, decides to take it upon himself.

He tilts his head at his old friend, hopeful smile blooming on his face.

“Do you want to talk? Outside?” he offers.

Yunho blinks, surprised. Then he nods, alleviated. “Yes!”

They cross the living room quietly, pushing through the bodies, until they reach the main door. Once outside, Yunho removes the horrible blonde wig and stuffs it in the small fanny pack he has hidden underneath his shirt. His usually fluffy hair is pressed flat against his head, sweaty and shiny. Hongjoong tries not to laugh at the sight.

To his misfortune, Yunho still looks handsome.

“So…” Hongjoong starts, scratching his neck awkwardly. “How have you been?”

“Good, fine,” Yunho replies, nodding his head. “Listen, hyung, I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For how I spoke to you during summer… I was just taken aback and the feelings from our fight kind of resurfaced… And because—” he stops himself, looking down.

There is a lot Hongjoong wants to ask about, but he settles for what he feels most curious about, which seems hard for Yunho to talk about.

“Because what?” he inquires, sitting down on the steps in front of the house. Yunho follows suit.

Yunho sighs. “I guess we never really talked about it…”

“We didn’t,” Hongjoong agrees. “For whatever reason.”

Yunho gives him an indecipherable look, tilting his head. 

“What?” Hongjoong asks, tone defensive.

“You know _why_ we fought… You can’t tell me you don’t know.”

“Well, it was a shitty time for both of us. And after that, we never tried to reconcile. Until now, I guess,” he adds with a shrug.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” Yunho asks him, squinting his eyes. He stands up, turning his back on Hongjoong.

“Why what?”

“Why I was so stressed back then? Why I snapped at you?”

“Well, I guess I can imagine why…” he tells him, feeling a bit like shit. Maybe he should’ve asked, he just always thought it was something Yunho hadn’t wanted to talk about at the time. “I’m sorry.”

Yunho shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess. I never really expected them to accept me, or my dreams. It stings, but it’ll pass,” he says, still with his back to Hongjoong. “I’m sorry for my strong reaction during summer, sometimes I forget that I’m an adult now. That, although I do live with them, I don’t depend on them anymore. I keep forgetting that they’re losing their control over me, which means I can take the decisions I want, and…”

“And, what?” Hongjoong pushes, standing up as well so he can move to stand in front of Yunho. 

The younger holds a haunted look on his face, as if he had just now realized the truth behind his words. He’s staring off into the distance, even with Hongjoong in front of him.

“And that if I want you back in my life, then that’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Yunho looks down at him, a faint smile on his face.

“Oh, you must know, hyung,” he says, and Hongjoong’s heart starts to beat faster, harder than before. 

Maybe he does know, those words Yunho said four years ago, that he had been hurt when Hongjoong had ran away after their kiss, they have been with him all this time. He regrets running away, but he was young and scared, everything moving too quick and too unstable. A relationship would’ve been too much for him, and he didn’t want to lose Yunho. Which, jokes on him, because in the end he had.

“Tell me,” Hongjoong says.

Yunho frowns. “I had a crush on you back then, our friendship just felt like another thing in my life I wasn’t supposed to have. Just another _ something _ my parents would disapprove of,” he admits, grimacing. “Seeing you again kind of felt as if I was reliving the past in some strange, altered way…” He shrugs weakly, and when he looks at Hongjoong his gaze is searching—honest and open. “It took me a while to get away from that mentality. If you’re still open for it, I wouldn’t mind us reconnecting.”

Hongjoong beams at him. “Of course I wouldn’t mind!” he tells him.

Yunho slowly smiles back and leans forward, whether to kiss or hug Hongjoong, but then draws back quickly, straightening up almost comically vertical. He coughs, awkwardly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he finally says. “And sorry again. I was an ass, both, four years ago and during summer.”

“I’m sorry as well, for my actions back then. And for being too pushy during summer, I should’ve known to give you space…” Hongjoong admits himself. It feels good to talk about it. “So… Friends?” He reaches out his hand, waiting for Yunho to take it.

And Yunho does. “Friends!” he agrees with a shake, both of their hands lingering.

They sit back down and fall into comfortable conversation about their classes and their friends until, possibly an hour later, they’re silent, stealing glances at one another.

“Uh, hey, hyung,” Yunho starts, “do you think they’re still doing the hunt?” he wonders.

Hongjoong shrugs. “Who knows? Do you wanna go inside to check?”

“Ah, I don’t know. We’ve lost, which means cleaning the house in the morning…”

Hongjoong grimaces. “That’s true, but I don’t want to be on Jongho’s bad side, he seems really _ fucking _ scary!”

Yunho laughs at that. “Yeah, he can be pretty intimidating,” he agrees.

Hongjoong stands up, reaching out his hand for Yunho to take so he can help him up. They walk back into the house to search for their friends and accept their certain defeat.

(Maybe cleaning the house at 9am, barely having slept, together with Yunho isn’t the most terrible thing in the world, Hongjoong realizes. Plus, San gets them coffee and breakfast.)

When November 7th arrives, Hongjoong wakes up at 5am as he does any other day of the year, with the exception of Saturdays and Sundays, in which it would be 7am. Still, that year his birthday falls on a Friday—a very rainy and gray and cold Friday.

Hongjoong hasn’t celebrated his birthday in a very long time, usually he treats himself to something sweet or gets an extra pack of his favorite snacks. When Yeosang came into his life, his birthday became an easy and chill dinner with his two friends—no presents involved, no pressure. 

This year, as it seems, everything is changing.

His tradition gets broken by an early text from Yunho, which comes in a minute before Hongjoong’s alarm. He reads it with sleepy eyes, blinking repeatedly to make sense of the characters that pop up on the device’s screen. He’s about to text back a quick _ thx <3_, but once he realizes who it’s from, he jolts out of his bed, panicked.

His alarm sounds then, shrill and disturbing the early morning silence. He shuts it off, with a still racing heart, and turns on his bed lamp. He grips his phone tightly and makes his way over to his kitchen, where prepares himself a can of coffee. Two toast in the toaster later, he sits on his kitchen stool and tries to come up with an answer to Yunho’s birthday text.

It’s nerve wracking. Hongjoong never thought it could be such a critical situation.

In the end he settles for a simple _ thank you :)_. The choice of putting in the smiley face, debating whether he should use an emoji or use his signature _ :’) _ he uses with Yeosang and Seonghwa, is quite a rollercoaster of emotions and anxiety. He does not need this kind of turbulence so early in the day, but by letting Yunho back into his life, he supposes it’s just the start. He fears the day Yunho will get comfortable with him again and start sending the hearts. It feels childish and stupid, that Hongjoong gets this undone and nervous about these seemingly trivial things, but these are the modern equivalents of courting. Or thinking someone is courting you, when in fact they’re just really friendly.

Hongjoong groans and sets down his phone. This is going great, he thinks to himself miserably as he finishes his breakfast.

When he walks into his morning class at 7:30am, his obligatory _ Marketing _ class which he shares with Wooyoung this semester, he’s high wired and stressed out. Yunho and him texted the whole morning in between getting ready for his classes and his morning rituals. It’s been going well, but Hongjoong is terrified of messing it up.

“Morning,” Wooyoung greets him, sniffling. His cold is still going strong, even if it’s been over a week since he caught it. Then again this time of the year, it feels as though everyone has a bit of a cold.

_ I need to stock up on Vitamin C and D_, Hongjoong mentally writes on his reminders list. He can’t afford getting sick right now.

“Isn’t it your birthday?” Wooyoung asks once Hongjoong is sitting next to him and unpacking his belongings, he nods distractedly. “Happy birthday, then, hyung!”

“Thanks.”

“Aren’t you a peachy one this morning?” Wooyoung bumps his knee into Hongjoong’s as a way to tell him that he can talk if he wants to, as a subtle way of cheering him up.

“You know Yunho, right?” Hongjoong asks, eyeing the clock on his phone. They still have twenty minutes before their professor arrives.

“I do, yes. I met him properly this summer,” Wooyoung tells him. “Why do you ask?”

Hongjoong looks down at this unopened notebook, he feels his ears grow warm. “Just wondering.”

“_Just wondering_,” Wooyoung repeats with a teasing tone. “He says as he blushes.” When Hongjoong looks up the younger wears a shiteating grin. 

“It’s not what you think,” he assures him. He doesn’t even know what it is right now, if he’s honest with himself, but it is _ something_.

“And what do you think do _ I _ think?” Wooyoung inquires, still grinning.

Hongjoong opens his mouth to answer, then frowns. “Wait, what?” Wooyoung laughs. “I am too fried for this.”

“It’s understandable, hyung,” Wooyoung says. “Yunho is quite good looking. Tall and friendly, with those twinkling eyes. If I hadn’t met San, I could imagine falling for him too… I think everyone has a crush on him at some point, he’s a killer combo.”

Hongjoong knows he must look like a blazing tomato. There’s sweat forming in his lower back despite that the classroom is still cold—he loves his afternoon classes during winter time as the heaters have ran the whole day by then and the faculty building is comfortably warm. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stutters out, bouncing his leg nervously. “Wait, wait, hold on. _Y__ou and San_?”

Wooyoung looks taken aback, his smile dropping. “I thought everyone knew.”

“I guess I didn’t, sorry.” Hongjoong exhales, feeling a bit less frightened by this whole situation. “And, well, I suppose… You’re right.”

“Right about what?” he pushes, his grin slowly growing back.

“That Yunho is good looking…” Wooyoung hums, one of his eyebrows raised. “And that I maybe… Just _ maybe _ have a very small crush on him.”

“_Hah_!”

“But don’t tell anyone! I swear, Wooyoung, I will… I will tell Jongho to break your fingers!”

“Scary,” he deadpans, but he does put a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “But you’ve got my word, hyung. I won’t tell anyone. Maybe San, but he won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

Hongjoong grimaces. “Thanks…” he drawls out. 

“Are you going to do anything for your birthday today?” Wooyoung asks after a while, boringly staring into the classroom, which is slowly filling with students. Still five minutes before their professor gets there.

“Not really. Probably dinner with Yeosang and Seonghwa…”

“No party?” Wooyoung looks at him, eyebrows raised. He does that a lot, Hongjoong has come to realize. It makes him look a bit unapproachable and arrogant, he only ever seems happy or comfortable around San, lowering his walls and defenses when he is with him. “That’s boring.”

“Hey,” he protests, but he partly agrees with Wooyoung. Part of him wants to throw a small party, at least go to a club with a group of friends and have fun. Part of him imagines an intimate dinner with a significant other (that vaguely resembles Yunho). Hongjoong swallows. “What do _ you _ do for your birthdays?”

“Well, it’s actually coming up in a few weeks,” Wooyoung answers, smiling softly. “On the actual day, it’ll be just San and I cuddling, going on a date… Something along those lines, I don’t know the details, he’s preparing it. But I do plan on going to this one gay bar that recently opened, the weekend after my birthday… If you’d like, you’re invited.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Wooyoung tells him, nodding his head. “So, that’s what I’ll be doing for mine.”

“Going to a gay club does sound nice…” Hongjoong says, considering. He has never been clubbing, only been to bars. 

“Don’t steal my birthday idea!”

Hongjoong laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll stick to my tradition this year, but perhaps the following one…”

Their professor walks into the classroom then, looking a bit disheveled, and Hongjoong focuses his mind on the lecture at hand, pushing all thoughts of his birthday and Yunho far away.

It turns out Hongjoong was the only one holding onto old and comfortable traditions, because the moment he crosses the small restaurant he was supposed to meet his friends at for their annual dinner party-not-party, he’s slightly taken aback by a larger group of people huddled together inside. Maybe it’s because the restaurant is so small that it feels as if there are a lot of people waiting for him, when in reality it’s just five people. Maybe it’s because Hongjoong was expecting only two.

The bell jingles over his head when he pushes the crystal door open, the warmth inside instantly makes him feel relaxed, and the smell of the home cooked meals makes his stomach grumble. The old lady behind the counter, that he’s grown fairly acquaintanced with, shoots him a warm smile.

“Your friends are already waiting,” she tells him, pointing her head at the only customers.

“Thank you.” He gives her a smile before he walks over to them.

Yeosang and Seonghwa are seated on the couch, a free spot in between them. Wooyoung and San are each on one of the colorful plastic chairs, next to the couch. Finally, there’s Jongho, sitting on a chair opposite the couch with his legs crossed. Jongho’s holding a plastic bag, a slightly exasperated look on his face.

“Hyung!” Yeosang exclaims, shooting up from his position to welcome him. “Happy birthday!”

After hugging each of his friends and sitting down in between Seonghwa and Yeosang, Jongho hands him the plastic bag. “This is for you,” he says.

Hongjoong takes it gratefully, a bit embarrassed. Inside there is a small and rectangular shaped box wrapped in green paper. He isn’t one for presents really, he rather have people invite him to food or, if they must, buy him something practical.

“There’s more to it, but Yunho hyung forgot it. He’s fetching it.”

“And Mingi,” Yeosang adds.

“And Mingi,” Jongho agrees, painful expression crossing his face. “I swear those two are an absolute mess.”

“Don’t be rude,” San scolds him. “They’re in love!” he singsongs.

Wooyoung coughs awkwardly, he shoots Hongjoong a worried look, who has stopped opening his gift and just stares at San, whereas Yeosang is choking on his drink.

Wooyoung pinches San subtly.

“What was that for?” his boyfriend complains.

“San, sweetie…” Wooyoung pats his knee. “Care to elaborate on what you just said? About Mingi and Yunho being in love?” He laughs forcefully, trying to lighten the sudden cold mood.

Seonghwa is watching the scene with a confused expression, then he stares at Hongjoong, his thick eyebrows drawn together into a frown.

San gives Wooyoung a confused look, then he looks at Hongjoong, and slowly his mouth falls open. “Oh,” he sighs out. “Oh, _ fuck_, wait! Not in love with each other! Never! They’re like bros!” he clarifies, laughing nervously.

“Who’s Mingi in love with?” Yeosang asks, eyebrows shooting up.

“That’s not the point, Yeosang—” Wooyoung is telling him off.

“Probably some video game character,” Jongho interjects, lips pressed together in mild disgust. 

“And who is Yunho in love with?” Seonghwa asks carefully. He gives Hongjoong a worried look.

“I actually don’t know,” Jongho replies. “I didn’t even know he was_ in love _ with someone to begin with.”

“Ah, well, what does it matter, right?” Hongjoong says, laughing. He rips the present open forcefully.

Wooyoung is scolding San quietly. “How was I supposed to know?” San hisses back, annoyed.

Once Hongjoong has removed the green wrap paper, he is surprised to find a ring box, and as he opens it he finds a silver ring, but not just _any _ring. It’s one of those to alleviate someone who tends to fidget, which Hongjoong does a lot, especially when he’s stressed or anxious. He looks up to smile at Jongho, but the bell above the door jingles as Yunho and Mingi walk in, the former holding a present in his hand, it’s badly wrapped up in newspaper. The two tall boys nod their heads at the restaurant’s owner before they walked over to the table.

“Sorry for the delay,” Yunho says, looking like he really means it. He gives Hongjoong a small smile. “Here, I believe this is the second part to it.” He hands him the gift, nodding his head in the direction of the fidget ring.

For a moment, Hongjoong is too speechless to work, just eyeing the wrapped present, then looking at Yunho, who looks soft and cozy (and homely) standing tall in the restaurant: his black hair a curly mess, his cheeks flushed, and his brown eyes softer in the yellow light of the location.

Someone kicks Hongjoong under the table and that gets him to blink himself out of his stupor. He blushes fiercely, but he ignores it in favor of finally taking the damned gift. He quickly looks away from Yunho.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Seomeone, that sounds suspiciously like Jongho, clears their throat purposefully.

“Happy birthday, Hongjoong-ssi!” Mingi says loudly. 

“Uh, yeah, happy birthday, hyung!” Yunho follows, awkwardly shuffling through the small place so he can sit down on the chair between Jongho and Seonghwa. Mingi sits on the edge of the couch, squeezed next to Yeosang.

Yeosang is quiet by nature, rather observing silently and allowing the people around him to exist boundlessly and freely, never really expecting anything, but even so, he does have his jokes and cents to throw in occasionally. Hongjoong notices him go _ unusually _ quiet, and rigid, playing with his napkin in an awkward manner.

“Shall we order?” Seonghwa asks into the round.

“Yes!” 

Once the owner takes their orders, Hongjoong is peer pressured by his friends (mostly it’s Mingi’s insistency, leaning over Yeosang to stare at Hongjoong with excited eyes) to open the present Yunho brought. He nibbles on his bottom lip, nervous and excited to open it. If it’s anything like Jongho’s ring, he knows he’ll like it. They said these presents go together, but Hongjoong can’t imagine what that means.

With delicate fingers he rips the newspaper carefully off. Underneath he reveals a book, it seems to be a regular notebook, except when he opens it he notices sentences written inside with black pen in different handwritings. He recognizes Yeosang and Seonghwa’s, he supposes the others are by everyone else sitting at the table. His heart is beating fast as he reads all the encouraging and kind messages in the notebook.

He feels his cheeks blush and his sight get blurry, but he doesn’t dare to look up.

“Hyung…” Yeosang whispers, one of his hands coming to rest on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong swallows, then he looks up, his eyes locking with Yunho’s. “Thank you,” he says. “Really, guys, thank you,” he repeats, this time addressing everyone at the table. “And, yes, I’m okay, Yeosang, just a bit… You know.” He smiles embarrassed.

“It was Yunho’s idea to do this,” Mingi reveals, grinning.

“Thank you, Yunho,” Hongjoong thanks his old friend again, giving him a smile. Yunho smiles back, his cheeks pink, but he seems happy that Hongjoong likes it.

It’s around 1am when they’re done with the birthday meal, their group dispersing into different directions, except for Yunho, Mingi, and Hongjoong as two latter are living in The Block, and Yunho is sleeping over at Mingi’s.

Their walk is filled with easy chatter, mostly Mingi and Yunho retelling the fantastic tales of their adventures in _ World of Warcraft_. Hongjoong listens with a small smile on his face, watching the way Yunho’s eyes shine bright in excitement. He moves his hands around while he explains, and he keeps checking up on Hongjoong, making sure he’s listening and following the story, patient when Hongjoong asks about certain details he doesn’t get as he doesn’t play the game himself.

At some point, Mingi stops talking and skips ahead with the excuse that he needs to rush to a 24/7 grocery shop to get some breakfast. Hongjoong doesn’t buy it, he’s aware of the intimate and close way him and Yunho are talking. The way they look at one another, he knows, for his own part, what intend lies behind his eyes. He likes to think it’s the same behind Yunho’s, and hopes it’s not just wishful thinking.

They stop in front of The Block, where they wait together for Mingi to arrive so Yunho doesn’t have to wait alone for the return of his friend. They’re quiet, staring at the street, stealing glances at one another, a tension building up in between them that nearly suffocates Hongjoong. He wants to say something, or do something, but he’s terrified. 

When he meets Yunho’s shy glance for the third time, he gives him a smile instead of looking away. Yunho smiles back.

“So, did you like the dinner?” 

Hongjoong nods. “Yes, it was nice. Not what I was expecting, but it was nice nonetheless. Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure.” Yunho licks his lips, awkwardly bouncing on his feet. “I’ve… missed hanging out with you, hyung,” he says quietly, rocking back and forth. Hongjoong isn’t sure if he does it because he’s nervous or because he’s cold.

“I’ve missed being with you too,” he admits, and wants to say something else, but Yunho stumbles, rocking forward too much, and he loses balance.

It happens quickly and before he knows it, Hongjoong is stabilizing Yunho by his shoulders, keeping him straight. The taller man has his own hands on Hongjoong’s elbows to hold himself up, and he’s blushing fiercely now, looking down at Hongjoong with embarrassment. Then Yunho’s eyes flicker down to look at Hongjoong’s lips, they move back up quickly, a frightened look crossing through them.

Hongjoong’s heart beats fast in anticipation and he looks down at Yunho’s lips, which are parted, a ghost of a breath forming every time he exhales. When he looks up again, he hopes the younger man knows that he wants this just as much, that he’s waiting for it to happen, but before Yunho can move any further, there are approaching footsteps coming from behind Hongjoong.

The two separate quickly, not looking at one another. Hongjoong can feel his face on fire; his ears too. His skin is prickling, and his lips feel swollen even if there was no kissing involved—probably because he keeps nibbling on them unconsciously. 

_Holy shit_, he thinks. _We almost just kissed_. His heart flutters lightly.

“Sorry for the wait!” Mingi shouts and comes to a step next to them. “Did something happen?” he asks as he notices the tension in between the two of them. “Did you fight again?” he wonders as he opens the main door of The Block.

“No,” Yunho answers in a stutter and fleetingly looks over at Hongjoong, as if to ask him if this is a reason for a fight. Hongjoong tries his best to give him silent reassurance.

“We’re good, it’s just cold,” Hongjoong lies.

“Don’t you live here, hyung? You could’ve waited inside,” Mingi says with a laugh, giving them both an odd look.

Hongjoong shrugs, embarrassed. “I’m stupid.”

“You are,” Mingi agrees.

“Don’t be rude,” Yunho tells him, but he’s smiling amusedly.

The three walk up together in silence, trying their best not to wake those that are already sleeping, but hardly anyone ever sleeps in The Block. 

Twenty minutes later, Hongjoong lies in his bed awake as he stares at the first snow of the year falling softly and quietly from the dark sky. He falls asleep some time later, with a smile on his face as he dreams of Yunho.


	4. raining over lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here we are,” Hongjoong agrees, smiling. He wants to kiss him so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes for everyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas with their blood families this year! You're not alone and your found family is out there, hold on some more! I love you and Merry Christmas!
> 
> And, of course, happy holidays for those that do not celebrate Christmas!! ^__^

The dorms are uncharted territory for Hongjoong, despite that Yeosang lives there and invites him over quite often. The one thing Hongjoong knows is that their coffee is surprisingly good, so sometimes, when he’s on his way home from classes and drained, he sneaks to the dorm’s cafeteria-slash-dinner hall to steal a cup of coffee. Usually, he goes by unnoticed, or he simply goes with Yeosang.

That day, it’s a bit different though. For starters, it’s a day before Christmas—and just like Chuseok in September, the dorms and campus are pretty much empty—and Hongjoong, like every year, is one of the only students to not go home. He hasn’t been at his parents’s place in over four years.

It’s not as lonely as it once was, or better put, he can deal with the loneliness now.

He just spends the festive days cocooned up in blankets, barely leaving his room, and either working ahead or watching shows. Distracting himself from the crushing reality. Yeosang and Seonghwa always send him supporting and loving messages, trying to alleviate his pain—and usually it works. He is very grateful he has them, but even they can’t protect him from the harsh truth.

The cafeteria is mostly empty, only three people sit there, foreign students who couldn’t fly home for the holidays, or didn’t want to. Hongjoong greets them with a nod and a polite _ Hello, Merry Christmas _ in English, which they respond to happily. Then he goes up to the counter and orders himself a nice, big cup of coffee.

Usually, he wouldn’t stay in the dorm’s cafeteria, but the loneliness feels especially strong these days.

After spending so much time with Yunho these past weeks, growing from awkward acquaintances—once good friends—back into something that could be called friendship, has made Hongjoong yearn for so much more. More time that he wants to spend at Yunho’s side, but it’s not just that, he feels more entitled to _not be lonely_. He always used loneliness as a self punishing mechanism to deal with leaving home four years ago, but he realizes these days that there’s nothing for him to punish. He’s never committed a crime. 

These past months, he hasn’t only been reconnecting with Yunho, but he’s become friends with four new people, and his once lonely days—that seemed so interminable—feel far, far away.

Except this moment, it comes all back, strongly.

The loneliness is nearly consuming, but Hongjoong realizes as well that among his new and old friendships the one person he wants by his side the most is Yunho.

Those feelings he had hoped and thought were gone for good come creeping back. He felt it the past weeks, how they slowly made themselves present when he entangled gazes with Yunho, a thrill running through his body and his fingertips tingling, his cheeks blushing. All those dazing and exciting emotions come running back now, and Hongjoong is too overwhelmed to distinguish if he wants this truly or if it’s just the phantom from four years ago visiting him, because he doesn’t know what it means not to love Yunho. He doesn’t want to ruin this, he doesn’t even know what Yunho thinks of him, feels about him.

It’s a train-wreck, he’s so sure of it.

With a slightly irritated mood, he sits at one of the empty tables, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his social media, checking on his diverse email account, texting Yeosang memes… Just the kind of morning routine he misses whenever he’s too busy with classes, that he only gets to do on rare occasions, such as today.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, but at some point he gets a text message from Yunho. With a fluttering heart he opens it.****

**[jeong yunho ????!??!?!]**

_ hi _

_ hyung _

_ are you busy right now? _

10:55 AM

_ No _

10:55 AM

_ can we meet up? _

10:55 AM

_ Aren’t you home? _

10:55 AM

_ um... _

_ no _

10:57 AM

_ Oh _

10:58 AM

_ so... can we meet up? _

11:01 AM

_ Yeah _

_ Sure _

_ Where? _

11:03 AM

_ where are you at right now? _

11:03 AM

_ Campus cafeteria _

11:03 AM

_ be there in 20 _

11:03 AM

_ Cool _

11:05 AM

Hongjoong sets his phone down, a trembling breath escaping his lips as he realizes he’s going to see Yunho in twenty minutes. That his lonely Christmas plans won’t possibly be as lonely. He sips his coffee and stares ahead, faintly growing aware of his disarrayed appearance. 

He wears sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt, his thick winter jacket lying on the seat next to him. He momentarily thinks about putting it back on, but that’d be stupid. Instead, he checks his reflection in his phone’s front camera. At least he had the grace to put on a beanie before leaving, his mess of a hair hidden away, but his face looks swollen and tired still: there are bags under his eyes and faint stubble lines his chin. Thankfully, his skin isn’t breaking out as bad as it had the previous week, when he was consumed by stress.

Hongjoong sighs and rolls his shoulders, trying to dissipate his nerves. Yunho has seen him in way worse states, this shouldn’t be as bad, but somehow he wishes he could impress Yunho, make him feel as breathless as he makes Hongjoong feel.

When the bottom of his coffee cup shows, a person sits next to him.

“Good morning, hyung!” Yunho greets him, out of breath. His cheeks are flushed, just like his nose, and his hair is an absolute mess. He’s wearing some washed out jeans and a hoodie, a leather jacket throw over. “Sorry for making you wait.”

“No, don’t worry, I was, you know,” he vaguely points at his coffee in explanation. “So, what’s the plan?”

Yunho deflates, scratching his neck. “I didn’t really have anything in mind. I just thought we could hang out.”

“_Oh_.” Hongjoong looks away from him to stare at his coffee; he’s glad his ears are tucked away under the beanie because he can feel them on fire. “That’s cool.”

Yunho hums, and then an awkward silence spreads over them. Hongjoong can’t look at him, not yet; he fears his whole face will turn crimson red, his heart is already shaking in his chest. He feels his lower back grow sweaty at an unpleasant speed. _ This was a bad idea_, he tells himself, silently cursing.

Yunho clears his throat then.“I still have to go buy late Christmas presents for Mingi and Jongho, and everyone else,” he starts, unsure and hopeful. “Care to join me on that mission?”

Hongjoong is grateful for the attempt to dissipate the tension and he nods his head vigorously; it’s slightly embarrassing he thinks, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll buy my late presents too,” he says stupidly. He doesn’t really have the money to buy presents, Yeosang and Seonghwa never minded that, he usually cooks them something, gives them coupons such as _ Three tight hugs from Hongjoong! _ and _ A bread baked from scratch by Hongjoong-ie hyung! _Somehow he doesn’t want Yunho to know that, even if he probably already knows that Hongjoong isn’t doing so hotly financially.

They leave the university grounds ten minutes later, walking to the nearest tram station. In comfortable quietness they ride to the street lined with different shops and restaurants, and other entertaining localities.

After four hours of successful shopping for Yunho, and awkwardly shuffling along for Hongjoong—and of course talking nonstop—they’re sitting in a small café near The Block. Outside, it’s darkening already, but all the Christmas lights make the darkness a lot less scary and drowning; plus, it has been snowing lightly for hours, the white snowflakes growing with density now and making everything look magical and dreamlike—like a wonderland.

They’re the only ones in the café and for a stupid moment Hongjoong thinks they’re the only people in the world. The moment feels so precious and so overwhelmingly good that he wonders if it is even real or if he’s dreaming it up—or if time has stopped. Another stupid part of his brain tells him that it could pass as a date, which it makes his heart flutter more than he’d like to admit.

Yunho has found his way back into Hongjoong’s life with such ease and gracefulness, that he just sits there and stares at Yunho while he rambles on and on about different things. It’s captivating, or maybe he’s just a fool in love. (_Yep, that’s definitely it_, a voice says, one that sounds like Yeosang, and that seems to be amused by this.)

Yunho’s rambling fades out at some point and he turns to look outside. “It’s getting late,” he observes.

“Yes,” Hongjoong agrees.

“We should probably head back before the snow becomes a storm and we’re trapped in here.”

“Yes,” Hongjoong echoes, and when Yunho looks at him with amusement, he blinks repeatedly. He straightens up abruptly, his cheeks reddening. “I mean, yes, we should. Where do you live again? I’ll walk you there!”

Yunho makes a noise in the back of his throat, uncomfortably shifting in his seat. “Ah, you see, hyung, I live at The Block now.”

“What?” Hongjoong asks in surprise. He had not expected that. “Since when?”

“I mean, I don’t have my own room. I’ve been living with Mingi for over a month now. The landlord says, though, that a room will be available starting January, so I’ll have my own then.”

Hongjoong nods his head, but he feels a bit betrayed. They’ve been hanging out so much lately, reconnecting and meeting their new selves, that this vital information missing from Hongjoong’s picture of present Yunho only makes him feel as though his old-new-friend doesn’t trust him.

He’s seen him around The Block, of course, but he always thought Yunho was visiting Mingi. He swallows, not trying to read too much into it; Yunho will have his reasons to maintain this a secret and he will probably open up to Hongjoong once they grow closer again.

“Well, then,” he begins, chuckling nervously, “we will be walking the same direction.”

Yunho hums in agreement. Hongjoong skin prickles thinking that they’re so incredibly close now—it’s exciting and frightening at the same time—yet for some reason he feels a chasm opening in between them.

“Shall we go?” Hongjoong wonders now that their coffee cups are empty and the once delicious pastries on their plates are reduced to scattered crumbs.

“Yes,” Yunho agrees and gets up, grabbing his several shopping bags. He walks up to the counter, while Hongjoong struggles to shrug into his winter coat. “I’ll pay,” he says, shaking his head when Hongjoong is already starting to protest. “You came with me, enduring the shopping, this is the least I can do.” 

While he pays, Hongjoong stares at him, thinking that he doesn’t even care what activity Yunho invites him along to, as long as they spend their time together. It’s so cheesy that he looks away quickly, staring instead at his boots; _ I should probably polish them soon_, he thinks to himself. Anything that isn’t the crushing reality that he’s back falling for Yunho, but this time he doesn’t have the guarantee that Yunho likes him back.

There’s hope that he does, something tells Hongjoong that their almost kiss during his birthday meant _something_, and them hanging out so much for the past weeks, or Wooyoung’s birthday party where they spent until 6am just talking and talking and talking. A bond forming between them again; but just like four years ago, Hongjoong’s terrified of fucking it all up.

“Let’s go, hyung!” Yunho calls out, holding the café’s door open.

They walk in silence, mesmerized by the snow fall and the pretty Christmas lights, and the muffled world around them. There’s something about the snow that always makes Hongjoong feel so sad yet so incredibly alive at the same time. Maybe the freezing temperatures awaken his heart and mind.

“Yunho,” he says softly. His friends hums, signalizing that he’s listening. “Would you like to spend Christmas with me tomorrow?” he asks, feeling stupid the moment he lets it out and he wants to take it back. Just because Hongjoong’s alone doesn’t mean that Yunho will be.

To his surprise, Yunho smiles warmly at him. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He wants to ask why Yunho’s alone during Christmas, just like him, but he doesn't.

“Yes,” Yunho reassures him. “I didn’t have any plans… I mean, aside from becoming one with the bed and watch some shows on _ Netflix_.”

“That would’ve been my plan as well,” Hongjoong confesses. It feels so bittersweet, their obvious loneliness combined now with their new plans, putting an end to the sadness. “We could bake cookies?” he offers; he never enjoyed doing it with his parents, but not because he hated cookie baking, he just hated the atmosphere at home during Christmas. The forced happiness, pretending they were a healthy family… 

“Of course!” Yunho says. “I love baking! We can listen to Christmas songs on the radio and maybe watch a movie later on. And I have Christmas sweaters, do you want me to bring you one? So it’s festive and—” He stops himself rather abruptly, nearly stumbling in his steps. “Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself there,” he mumbles.

Hongjoong shakes his head. “No, I'd love that. Please do bring a Christmas sweater, I have none. I may have some tinsel somewhere, I’ll decorate my room a bit before you come.”

Yunho smiles, his cheeks pink—most likely due to the cold, but Hongjoong likes to think there’s another reason to it—and his dark curls are decorated with snowflakes; he looks heart-wrenchingly beautiful and homely. Hongjoong wants to reach out his hand and shake the snow out of his hair, wants to trace his pink cheeks, but he doesn’t do any of that.

They stop in front of The Block, hesitating before going inside. Even if they both live there, going inside meant parting ways. Yunho looks around them nervously, he clears his throat.

“Thank you for today,” he says. “I’m glad we’re spending so much time together again. I’ve missed you.”

Hongjoong’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. “I’ve missed you too.”

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t mean it,” Yunho tells him with a sad smile.

“No!” Hongjoong protests, stepping closer to his friend. He looks up at him. “I’ve truly missed you! I thought you knew that. I’m really glad for this second chance the universe seems to have thrown at us. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished to—” He swallows, unsure if he should say it or if it were to be too much, but then he just think _fuck it_, Yunho deserves to know. “I’ve wished for us to meet again during so many nights these past years. My biggest regret was not fighting with you—although I do regret that too—but it was not calling you the following morning to apologize. I regret that so much more.”

Yunho is stunned into silence, staring down at Hongjoong, and a cackling tension builds up, similar with the moment during Hongjoong’s birthday when they almost kissed. _ Maybe we’re about to kiss now_, he wonders—_hopes_. But Yunho swallows, his lips parted, and leans back again. 

He smiles nervously. “I’ve always thought about you, wondering where you were and what you were doing, and… And if I was going to see you again. I really did hope I would,” he confesses quietly. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Hongjoong agrees, smiling. He wants to kiss him so badly.

“Let’s go inside before we freeze to death, shall we?” Yunho says, shivering. He licks his lips, his pupils oddly wide. “Hyung, I—” he starts but then shakes his head, a strange smile crossing his face. He moves to the door, unlocking it, and holds it open for Hongjoong.

When they reach the third floor, they hug. It feels incredibly nice to be held by Yunho, even if it's only briefly.

“Good night,” Hongjoong whispers, the quietness around them feels too sacred to be interrupted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yunho nods. “Yes; good night, hyung. Sleep well.”

Hongjoong stands in front of the closed door for a moment, replaying the day in his mind, especially the last few minutes. It makes him dizzy and hopeful. Maybe he isn’t alone with his loving feelings.

The following morning, Hongjoong allows himself to sleep until nearly 9am, but he’s out of his bed in a rush, stumbling to get to the shower. He wants to look nice for Yunho. And he still needs to clean up his mess of an apartment; it’s not as bad as the previous week, but he can see his clothes piling up again and his kitchen could use some sweeping.

At around 11am he’s done, preparing two coffees as Yunho would come up to the fifth floor any second now. Hongjoong has put on the local radio channel that plays the best Christmas songs, and he’s put the shitty tinsel over the kitchen counter and fridge, to bring some Christmas spirit into his flat. It’s strange to suddenly care for it again; even if he won’t be alone this year, there’s still some loneliness there. 

The word _ family _ is everywhere during this time of the year, it’s like the definition of Christmas and Hongjoong doesn’t have that, maybe never will have it again, until he forms his own, and even then… Even then there will be that hole in his heart that can’t be filled, some part of him believes he will never be quite whole again. Maybe he is wrong, but it has felt this for years now and he is slowly giving up the idea that it will change.

He shakes himself out of the sadness, he has no use for that now. Yunho is on his way. As if he sensed his presence, his doorbell rings, and when he goes up to open his flat’s door, Yunho stands there in a ridiculous Christmas sweater. He holds a bag and a few baking utensils.

“Hi, good morning, hyung,” he greets Hongjoong—quietly and softly like the snowfall outside. He looks beautiful, his hair curly as ever and so incredibly soft looking, his brown eyes are warm and hold something in them when they look down at Hongjoong, that makes his head spin.

“Good morning,” he greets back once he’s recomposed himself. “Come inside.”

“For some reason, I was expecting it to look different, but I guess all rooms in The Block look exactly the same, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s—Sometimes I think, what if I end up in the wrong room and think it’s mine and live there while a stranger lives in mine…” he trails off, feeling stupid now that he’s wording this irrational fear out loud.

Yunho laughs and nods his head. “I totally can see that. I accidentally went into the B building first, nearly walking into a stranger’s flat. That was so humiliating.”

Hongjoong laughs. “Come inside,” he says, opening the door wide and stepping aside to let Yunho inside.

About half an hour later, they stand in the small kitchen, extremely cramped now it holds two people—and Yunho being so incredibly tall takes away a lot of its space. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, it’s as though Yunho is filling every space of emptiness that Hongjoong has ever felt. They have their baking utensils and ingredients lining the kitchen counter, a phone propped up against the toaster with instructions for chocolate chip cookies.

“All right, let’s get our hands dirty,” Yunho says, ripping open the flour while Hongjoong gets the eggs.

They work in pleasant quietness and harmony, reading each other’s movements and thoughts, no communication needed, no words are needed to fill out the silence; they both realize that they will have time to talk in the future. A mutual, quiet agreement that they will go into the new year together and stay together. Of course, there’s still the hesitance if it will be as friends or possibly more—Hongjoong so desperately hopes it will be as more.

At some point, Yunho starts humming along to the Christmas songs playing on the radio and Hongjoong’s heart hurts in the best way. He’s missed something like this so much. he never had something quite like this if he’s honest, but now that he’s allowed a glimpse of what it would be to have Yunho by his side like this he doesn’t want to ever lose it.

Once the dough is in the fridge to cool down and become shapeable, Yunho unpacks several cookie shapers, they hold the form of animals and stars and Santa Clauses. Hongjoong grins picking out one of them to study it.

“They’re actually Mingi’s. Who knows why he’s got them,” Yunho tells him, ripping open the pack of chocolate chips and pours a hand full on his hand, smiling abashedly at Hongjoong’s piercing stare. “Don’t judge me, I am a chocolate lover.”

“As long as you don’t finish them all before the dough is ready…” he tells him, but in truth Hongjoong wouldn’t even mind. It’s not about the cookies or about how well they’ll taste, it’s about being there with Yunho—having his love by his side on this cursed day. “Give me some.”

Yunho laughs and offers his hand to Hongjoong, who picks out a few chips, his fingers brushing Yunho’s hand, and it sends his heart soaring. Something about it is so infinitely intimate. He’s yearned to have exactly this with Yunho, and he wants to tell him so badly.

“I’m really glad you’re here today,” he says quietly. It’s not quite what he wants to say, doesn’t make justice to what he feels, but for now it has to be enough. He’ll come up with better words; he’ll find the courage to tell Yunho everything over time.

“I’m glad I’m here, too. That you’ve invited me. Thank you, hyung.” Yunho has a miniscule and soft smile on his face, his eyes soft and full of love, and Hongjoong’s hope only grows.

They’re interrupted by the ringing of the alarm, signalizing that the dough is ready. Hongjoong startles and turns around to retrieve the dough. He dumps it unceremoniously on the counter, where Yunho had spread out a thin layer of flour so it doesn’t stick to the surface.

“I love this part,” the taller boy says, getting the wooden roller to spread out the dough. Once he’s done, he grabs a reindeer shaped form and presses it down onto the dough, a sad smile now crossing his face.

It makes Hongjoong think back to those times he made this exact activity with his parents, when he was still a child, and it pains him as much as it makes his heart growing ten sizes because he’s here now—present time—making it with Yunho. He understands that sad and nostalgic smile on Yunho’s face, so he clears his throat.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong begins hesitantly. He’s wanted to ask it for a while, the moment he got Yunho’s text, really, but he’s kept the question to himself. He’s scared of the answer; he knows it isn’t an easy one and he doesn’t want to bring any unnecessary pain to Yunho, but he has to ask it. “Why are you here?”

“Huh? Because we made plans yesterday,” Yunho replies, the soft smile gracing his feature slowly fades and becomes a forced grimace.

“You know what I mean.” Hongjoong sighs. “Why aren’t with your parents? At home?”

Yunho stops what he is doing, clutching the metal reindeer he was using to shape cookies tightly, staring at it as if it holds the answer. He exhales slowly; Hongjoong can see that he’s biting the inside of his cheeks, and his eyes look sad.

When he finally answers, his voice is quiet and restrained, like he’s trying not to cry—holding back so many emotions. “I fought with my parents last month—Well, before that, too, during Chuseok… Last month, when they were making Christmas plans, I just couldn’t—I realize I didn’t want to be there with them. I couldn’t stomach the thought of… _ that_.”

Hongjoong’s heart hurts at these words, he wishes it were easy, that he could tell Yunho things will resolve themselves naturally, that he should go talk to his parents… But Hongjoong can’t do it for he’d be lying; his own family problems haven’t solved themselves, no matter the talking he’s invested into it, and he’s done trying. Realizes there’s no point in that and he’s just uselessly holding on, no path for healing if he keeps half a foot there.

He reaches out his hand and lets it rest softly on Yunho’s shoulder, so he knows that Hongjoong _ is _ there; that he isn’t alone during Christmas and that he doesn’t have to hold back if he needs to let go. It’s about all he can do.

“It’s okay,” he says, Yunho turns to look at him. “We can make new Christmas traditions,” he offers, trying to go for cheerful and excited, but it sounds rather hesitant and scared.

Yunho fixates him with an unreadable look for a while, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his lips parted and trembling, but then he breaks out into a smile. It’s beautiful to see how the sadness surrounding him lifts like a veil and he just seems present and so on board. He moves forward to embrace Hongjoong tightly, who feels himself relax and let out a small sigh of relief. _ Thank you thank you thank you thank you_, he repeats in his head. He hasn’t lost Yunho, like he so surely thought he would, asking for too much. But Yunho is there, possibly will be there next Christmas, too, with their new traditions; Hongjoong won’t be alone this year.

“Of course!” Yunho exclaims softly, his head buried in his neck. His warm breath tickles Hongjoong as much as it makes his heart flutter with anticipation and just pure love. “I would love that,” he adds, quieter, and pulls away to stare directly at Hongjoong. “It feels incredibly right to be here today, in this moment. I’m not exactly sure why, but it just—It feels as if everything ever has lead me to be here.” Yunho stares at him in wonderment, his face coming closer. “Even through the pain, despite the sorrows and losses, I think this is where I want to be.” Hongjoong can feel Yunho’s breath fan over his face, the scent of chocolate chips incredibly alluring. “Next year too. And the one after that, and so on. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Hongjoong can’t respond, the words stuck in his throat, but something about his look must’ve convinced Yunho because he leans down and kisses him.

It’s sweet and Hongjoong’s heart soars.

He can feel Yunho’s hands coming up to hold his face in place, his thumbs on his cheekbones, where they’re brushing away the tears that seem to have started spilling out of Hongjoong’s eyes. Yunho’s lips are soft, a bit hesitant, but it isn’t chaste like their first kiss years ago, there’s no fear here. There aren’t houses around them with eyes that might spy on them, they’re on their own—just the two of them in this world.

Yunho angles his face to the side so he can kiss Hongjoong better, with less hesitation and more adoration. Hongjoong finally lets his hands come up to clutch the front of Yunho’s shirt, feeling his fast heartbeat underneath his palm. It’s mesmerising, in a way, to feel that they nearly match. It’s nice to know that this situation is as heart spinning for Yunho as it is for Hongjoong.

When they finally pull apart, they’ve got blushed cheeks and swollen lips, but their hearts are full. There’s a brief silence in which they just stare at one another, still standing close; Yunho’s hands are still holding Hongjoong’s face, softly and absentmindedly brushing his cheekbones.

Hongjoong finally snaps out of his trance, smiling shyly. “Will that be a part of our new Christmas traditions too?” he asks.

Yunho laughs, his hands slowly dropping until he’s holding Hongjoong’s waist. “I was thinking it could be. Is that all right with you?”

“More than all right,” he tells him and stands up on his tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. “Maybe my favorite part.”

“Wait until you’ve tried my cookies,” Yunho tells him and he squeezes Hongjoong’s waist before letting go.

He doesn’t let go completely, though, his pinky finger finding Hongjoong’s to intertwine them as they stupidly keep making Christmas cookies, each of them one handed because they don’t care. They’re in love and finally can allow themselves to feel it—unconditionally. There’s no one to tell them what they can and can’t do, how they’re supposed to do it; they’re finding their new traditions and rules, and some of them need no reason.

* * *

Although Hongjoong is a music production student, he’s attended several psychology classes and sometimes, when he’s saved up enough, treats himself to a session with a therapist to just vent and work through his teenage years. He’s still young, twenty-two years old, so he knows with time there will be a lot he will discover still about himself and scars that will heal; he knows his opinions and world views might change. He won’t always be this version of himself.

But the notion that he, as a mostly closeted gay man, hasn’t exactly experienced a coming of age story sticks with him. 

The first time Hongjoong thought about it he was nineteen, after graduating school with terrible grades. It was after he got kicked out of the company, living on his own, trying his best to stay afloat; after his fight with Yunho, which was the same moment he realized that he had come to care quite a lot for his friend, the realization hitting him too late, of course. But the fact that he did like Yunho and that their kiss was something he kept thinking about whenever he went to sleep, it lead Hongjoong to piece together a quite horrible puzzle. As he graduated high school with his peers, he realized he didn’t share their stories and tales of their teenagehood. 

When the class president held her speech, Hongjoong felt so detached from her coming of age story about falling in love, finding friends that supported her, discovering her dream… Hongjoong sat there alone, unsure if he should keep pursuing music, without any friends, and having just lost his first love.

He’s twenty-two now, a second year student in university. He’s doing what he likes—what often is the only thing to push him out of bed. He has friends, for the first time in his life, that he thinks might be forever, that support him and accept him and love him. And then there’s Jeong Yunho, again. After Hongjoong lost him four years ago, he’s here now.

They’re together finally, like he’s often dreamt of after he first met Yunho. He finally knows what it’s like to allow his love to become reality, to allow himself to be wholly vulnerable with a person. He loves Yunho unconditionally, he’s come to learn what that means in the past years, and he loves him without reason, he just does. Because sometimes there needs to be no reason for it, just like he could count a thousand of them; in the end, the only reason as to why he loves Yunho is because he loves him. Easy as that.

_ Everything’s coming together_, Hongjoong believes.

The notion is that children part of the community often don’t experience a coming of age story in their teenagehood, but rather in their twenties. 

Hongjoong clings to that believe, because the idea of having _ no _ coming of age feels weird. His teenage years might have been a constant battle with himself, his parents, society… He’s made it out of there, though, scarred and a bit lost—definitely with a lot more weight on his shoulders than many of his peers at twenty-two—but he’s alive. He’s won many battles and he’ll have to face many others, but Hongjoong believes that it won’t ever be as bad as it once was.

He’s not alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read this, commented, gave kudos! I LOVE YOU!!

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to interactTM here's my [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/hhhjoong)! 💛


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